Paper Heart
by Alori Kesi Aldercy
Summary: Jack's private thoughts overflow into a secret journal, but a chubby, loud mouthed girl he tries to use for ransom spies on what he's written. Keeping things close to the vest might not be so easy now with her on the loose... No OCxJack whatsoever.
1. He is absolutely, positively mad!

So, this is just a little test run. It's a re-make of a story I was previously writing with my friend Weiryn's Daughter, of which we should be starting back up soon.

Don't expect much, just do me a favor and give me some corrections and don't forget to tell me what you like!

Enjoy this short... If it does continue, it will need a new title...

Suggestions welcome for that area.

DISCLAIMER: This is FANFICTION people, obviously not my own work. The only character I own is the heavy-set girl, whose name is currently Mara Jane McArthur. Please don't steal. x)

(One more thing, this chapter has been replaced from the original. I got a review suggesting that I not use an accent for Jack and I took the advice as I found it true after thinking about it for a time. I ignored this fic for a little while, disinterested, but have picked it back up for whatever reason. However, the time passing from when I first wrote thischapter to when I picked it back up has caused some confusion in the plot line also. It's never _exactly_ said how Jack learns my OC's name due to an error in judgment when this story was begun, but I'm hoping you can forgive me for that along with any slight changes in Jack's personality from this chapter to the next. Thanks!)

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**Paper Heart**

As the wind blows through my dread locked hair, and cools my tanned flesh I almost feel adventure once again swooping down on me like an enemy pirate attacking from above. It's a feeling one never forgets. Once you've had the feeling, you crave it, like rum, it's an addiction you cannot escape, nor can it be ignored. I hold tightly to the crow's nest, lest I should fall, almost willing myself not to. It's a constant danger, but so is the life I live.

The life of a pirate.

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Entry 786

Port Royal. . . Cozy little town. . . Contains quite the opposite aura of that of my ship, the _Black Pearl_. But it's home to some of the richest people in the world, and home to some good friends of mine, if that's what you'd call them. Will and Elizabeth Turner, I call them my 'easily bought help', but they don't need to know that. Yes, the Turners, such saps, but they're nice that way. Especially Elizabeth. Will's nice too, but he's a bit of a eunuch. It's a wonder he ever even bothered marrying Elizabeth. I doubt they'll ever have kids, I'll be cursed forever if they do. (Made a bet with Gibbs. . . Loser has to carry Aztec gold in their pocket for the rest of eternity. That's a LONG time.)

We're almost there now, so close I can hear the busy streets, the carts as they rumble across the stones paving the street, and the people yelling, talking. It's the very thing I always hated about land and cities. . . The noise. I like the ocean, the cool breeze, and the quiet waves that speak in a tongue only a hardened sailor can understand. . . Only I can understand.

Ask a land faring man what he hears when he hears the ocean and all he'll tell you is he hears the waves, then he'll walk away. Ask me what I hear and I'll say I hear the dramatic voice of an ancient spirit, calling for you to come away, and the pained voice of a new born, wanting someone to love it, punishing those who don't respect it with a crashing wail. I don't just hear the waves, I hear the ocean. I hear my own voice. Calling, wanting, punishing those who don't respect me. Perhaps that is why I am a sailor, why I'm a Captain. Who knows for sure? I doubt even the pagan gods in Africa know the depths of my heart. How can they when I myself constantly question it's true longing?

Today life has been given to me on a gold platter, in the form of Port Royal. Yes, Port Royal is mine for the taking, or rather, the money of a rich merchant who is simply passing through. The gold is on his boat. . . And I plan to steal it all. My crew and I need money, and that's where we are going to get it. With a little help. I just hope we don't catch up with Norrington and his men, the last thing I want are more holes in my ship. It leaks enough already. I really should fix that. . . But not now, I have a raid to organize.

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"Alright, mates, this time we take it all! Remember, get in, take what yeh can, and get out! I'll take care of getting us a hostage. You boys just deal with getting the gold." As Jack looked at the crew he swallowed hard and corrected himself. "You boys and ladies, of course. . ."

The only girl in the crew smiled curtly, then returned her face to the usual, half angry frown. "Of course, Captain. Just be sure you understand that point."

"I will, Anamaria. . ." Jack turned away, trying not to reveal his unnerve. "To the boats!" He ran towards the railing, and jumped over into a long boat. As it was lowered into the water and rowed to shore, he carefully planned his agenda. Jack's whole focus was on saying hello to the Turners (to keep up their friendship, for use in opportune moments of the near or far future), and finding a hostage. Any RICH hostage would do. As he got out of the boat and hurried down the street, night began to swell around him. He felt his pistol and cutlass bump against his leg in time to his slow jog. Rounding a corner, he slowed his jog to a fast swagger. Mostly just trying to look a bit more natural as he approached the Turner home. He didn't want look too anxious, so as to not alert authorities, but what he was really worried about was Will's astute observances or Elizabeth's feminine know-how. He hoped the couple would be caught off guard by his sudden visit, and too surprised to think much. Then again, if they were too surprised, they might become suspicious, and figure out everything. Indeed, friendships were delicate things.

Jack slowed his quick swagger even more, till it became a slow jaunt. As he stepped into the bushes, he shut his eyes in defense against the branches, opening them once again when he had reached the Turner's empty backyard. He glanced around, his chocolaty, brown eyes shifting to take in the entire yard. He scurried over to the porch railing, eased himself over casually, and stepped down. He withdrew a length of rope from inside his coat, a small hook attached to the end, and grinning, threw the hook up into an open window. It caught solidly on something just below the windowsill. He tugged for a moment, checking the solidity, then deeming it safe, scaled the wall of the house and entered through the gaping window. "Well, that was easy." He whispered to himself, unknowingly acting as if he was still afraid to be caught. Suddenly, a wail startled him. His eyes and arms waved about wildly as he tried to find where it was coming from. A baby! He stared down at the tiny child in the crib, mouth gaping almost as large as the open window. He swallowed hard as he looked at the child. "Gibbs cannot find out about this one. . .I'll never have any fun. Food will turn to ash in me mouth. . .Rum will. . .Rum! Rum will go straight through me! Not good! Definitely not good!" He turned when footsteps approached the nursery. "The Turners!" He rolled to the floor, disappearing under a make-shift cot to one side of the room, right as Elizabeth Turner entered.

"Oh, dear. Will! The baby is hungry again! Tell Miss McArthur I won't be able to see her off!"

"Yes, Elizabeth!"

Jack's eyes nearly bulged in surprise, shock, and discomfort as Elizabeth pulled the baby from the crib and moved towards a rocking chair in the middle of the room. He knew what came next when a mother fed her child, and as much as he wanted to see. . . that; he knew it would ruin all chances of saying hello to the Turners without earning himself a slap. And he REALLY didn't feel like getting slapped, nor did he want to face the husband's wrath. So, as much as he hated to do so, Jack rolled himself out from under the bed and stood, surprising Elizabeth. "'Ello there, luv'. . . Beautiful baby. . . Just thought I'd stop by to see you two before me ship took off again. . ." Jack winced as he finished this last line. Now Elizabeth was sure to ask WHY he was in Port Royal.

"Oh, Jack. It's you… Scared me a bit there… But, um, tell me," Elizabeth cocked her head to the side. "Why are you here?"

There it was, the last thing on Earth Jack had wanted to hear come from Elizabeth's mouth. "Well, you see, luv. . ." Jack waved his arms drunkenly, hoping perhaps he could drabble on for awhile and distract Elizabeth from her original question. "We were out of rum, and do you know how much I like rum?" That was a good line. Elizabeth was sure to think he was drunk now, he could say hello, goodbye, and get off without them worrying in the least.

"Yes. . . I do happen to realize how much you enjoy rum. . . Perhaps a bit too much- WILL! I need you for a moment!"

Jack smiled to himself when footsteps were heard coming up the stairs. He hid his glee and transformed his face into one of complete idiocy immediately receiving a saddened glance from the curly haired young man. "Hi there." Jack said, trying to sound slurred. It didn't come out as well as he had hoped, but it would work well enough.

"Yes. Of course." Will said as he stared at Jack for a moment, his eyes searching for any sign of soberness. There was none. Jack had completely covered his tracks. "I'm sure Miss McArthur won't mind you feeding the baby while she's here, go ahead down and keep her occupied while I deal with," Will's tired eyes searched Jack again. "Him."

Elizabeth's loud sigh gave away her frustration. "Alright."

Jack tried not to smile as Elizabeth made her exit. He watched Will watch him, in an uncomfortable silence. Finally he could stand it no more. "So, who is this McArthur that you've got over, hmm?"

The corners of Will's lips twitched into an amused smile. "I was waiting for that. Jack, when are you going to find yourself a REAL hobby? Kidnapping girls and trying to get a ransom for them isn't going to work much longer. Everyone knows you haven't the heart to kill them and that if they wait long enough you'll just release the girl."

Jack's heart sank. Where had he gone wrong? After careful planning, and some humiliation with pretending to be drunk, yet again, his plans were ruined. "That's not why I was asking! I was just curious! REALLY, I was."

Will nodded slowly, then shook his head and stared hard at Jack. "I don't believe you."

That was a killer. Jack felt his brain stumble over things to say, coming up with no defense, except, one that usually never worked, but just might right now. It seemed to be the opportune moment, the only way to find out if it really was or not was to try. "Alright, fine. You caught me. My plan, was to steal some money, which my crew is doing right now, kidnap a girl, which is what I was doing right now, call for a ransom, which is what I would have done eventually, and once I got the ransom, let the girl go, after wooing her and making her fall head over heels for me. Then, she would join back up with me, after finding herself dissatisfied with her former life and we'd live happily ever after. At least until I dumped her in Tortuga and found meself another girl, there she would become a prostitute for the rest of her life. Now, are you going to let me get on with my plans or not, young Turner? I've a lot to do, and not much time left to do it in." He watched Will's blank face, anxiously waiting the reaction.

"You really need to stop drinking rum. That was THE worst plan I have ever heard you come up with! Can't you think of better excuses to come visit me and Elizabeth?"

Bingo.

"Jack, how is it that you can come up with these humorous lines on the spot like that? No wonder you have so many enemies, if you really tell such bad jokes all the time-"

By now Jack had stopped listening. He was too busy preparing himself for his escape. "Listen, Turner, as much as I'd like to stay and chat, I do have a ship to attend to. Unlike yourself, I don't make money off social gatherings."

Will nodded slowly. "Yes. . . The trouble is, how to get you out without anyone noticing. The last time you tried to leave out the window, you fell, sprained your ankle, and more than half of the neighbors heard you cry out, leaving me to pretend to be injured for two weeks. You'll have to go downstairs and go out either the front or the back door, but either way, you risk being seen by our guest."

"I'll take the back. Besides, I'm Captain Jack Sparrow! How hard can it be ta sneak past a girl?"

Will raised an eyebrow. "Plenty. Trust me. I can't even so much as lean over without Elizabeth noticing."

Jack's brow furrowed, then his lips quirked into a smile. "Well, of course you can't. Don't you know where her eyes are when you do? She's just waiting for a chance to look at you." He watched Will's face redden in embarrassment.

"That's not what I meant. . ."

"I know. Don't get your breeches tied up in knot, Turner. I'm just playing around. Now, where's this back door you keep telling me about?" Jack began to slink down the curving stairs, his eyes darting across the room towards the door to the parlor from which female voices could be heard. Before Will could so much as protest, Jack had slid down the railing, and scurried across the room to the door of the parlor, had peeked in, and was headed for the kitchen. "Coming, Turner?"

Will scowled as he jogged down the steps. "You know I hate it when you do that. Please stop TRYING to give me a heart attack."

Jack grinned. "I just wanted a little look-see. Miss McArthur is very pretty, you know. But, I noticed, she's a bit on the pudgy side."

Will nodded distastefully. "Yes. Pretty but pudgy. . ." He turned his head then snapped back. "That's not at all what I meant! I was mocking you. . . It's not my place, or anyone's really, to remark on something like that!" Will fell silent, a slight blush passing across his face.

Jack nodded slightly. "So, then why did you?"

"I was just absentmindedly repeating what YOU had said! Stop trying to make me look like an idiot, Jack! "

Jack instantaneously decided that it was for the better if he ignored this last comment. He continued through the kitchen and out the back, turning at the last moment to tip his hat. "G'day, Mr. Turner." He smiled as Will rolled his eyes, shutting the door in Jack's face. He shrugged it off and whistled merrily as he swaggered down the porch steps. "Now, what's next?"

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Entry 787

I hear approaching ships in the distance. My men are running around on deck and I can hear Gibbs barking orders. This means I don't have much time to write, just enough to clear my head for battle. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I didn't write every day, would my head explode from worry? I know I would be very distracted constantly, that could get me into a lot of trouble. Every human in this world needs to let out their feelings, most do so by talking to other pathetic people with the same problems as their own. I can't. No one has my problems. I used to try to tell other people my worries as a small child, but no one ever listened. They just told me I was a silly little boy and that I should run along and play with the other boys at that miserable orphanage. That was when I began writing in journals. I ached for someone to talk to, and a book is a very good listener, believe it or not. So, I survived my childhood only with pen and paper, not that horrible rosemary and switch foot herb tea they used to make us drink. They said it would keep us from becoming ill, but sometimes I wonder if it isn't the very reason I was so ill all the time. Considering that once I stopped drinking it and switched to rum I was quite fine.

But back to what I had planned on talking about. Which happens to be the question of my sanity. Many question whether or not I have my head about me, I know I do, but still they question. This includes the hostage we now have on board. Miss McArthur. Pretty thing, big, but pretty. Her mouth is more than I can take. I wish I could toss her overboard and forget the entire plan, but that would mean we wouldn't get a ransom. Miss McArthur hasn't stopped yelling, crying, and carrying on since she boarded the _Pearl_. I can hear her even now, despite the fact that she is locked in the brig, and far away. She makes me want to jump overboard and swim away as fast as I can. Mainly because as soon as we defeat the British navy that follows us, I'll have to go down there and talk to her. Sometimes I wish I wasn't Captain, but then I think about all the other things I would miss if I wasn't Captain and take back my wish. No occupation is perfect, even being a pirate Captain has it's downs. Which is more than I care to believe.

The first thing the girl said to me when we got on board, and I had told her my plans, was "You're mad!" So? Maybe I am. If that's what she cares to believe, then that is what she'll get. I'll be mad all the time. Then, when she gets home, she'll tell all her mindless little twits for friends how insane Captain Jack Sparrow is. I could care less what they think of me. To one person I may be, that drunken Captain Sparrow. To another, that dashing Captain Jack Sparrow. And to yet another, that crazy Cap'n Sparrow. That's what I want anyway. No one should ever see the true me. They wouldn't understand it. For them to find out I have a heart, would be the worst fate I can surmise. I would no longer be a pirate. I'd just be Jack. Naked for all it's worth. A naked heart. Born to the breeze, exposed by the water's of the deep, only allowed to cry. They would no longer be interested in the hero in Sparrow, that part of me would be gone, dead to even the closest of friends, because that is what makes me different. My never ending bravery, selfishness, and the heart _hidden_ inside.

But anyway, I only know Mara Jane McArthur's name by what the Turner's told me, not from her own mouth. Will she be like all those other girls I've met, all proper and such, and insist on introducing herself?

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Jack strode out on deck, pulling his sword from its sheath as he walked. He went to the railing and looked out over the water and the ship that was approaching. "Gibbs!"

"Aye, sir?"

"Prepare the men. We're going to try to outrun these Brits." Jack turned, a smile on his face. "This IS the fastest ship in the Caribbean, and as far as I know we're still in the Caribbean. So it shouldn't be too hard to outrun these bloody idiots."

Gibbs smiled approvingly. "Aye, aye, Cap'n."

Jack watched as the crew began to scramble up and down the masts and yardarms, trying to unfurl all the sails. He sighed when a metallic banging drifted up out of the belly of the ship. "_Now_ she's got to bang on things. . . I'm gonna kill that little luv, if it's the last thing I do. . ." He clumsily stuck his sword back into its sheath and scrambled down the stairs, leading from the hatch to the wood floor below. He walked from the light of the open hatch to the shadow of the doorway to the brig and resisted the urge to cover his ears. "WILL YOU JUST BE QUIET FOR ONE MOMENT!"

Mara stopped suddenly, a scared look spread over her face. "Please don't hurt me. . ."

Jack stepped back in surprise to the girl's meek response. He quickly recovered, and pulled an angry look over his face. "Listen, I don't know why you're so bent on making so much racket, but it's driving us all mad. If it'll make you happier, you can come up on deck and stay in me cabin for awhile so you can get some fresh air." He stared at the girl expectantly, waiting for her response. After a few quiet moments, the girl stood from her kneeling position near the bars of the cell, and backed towards the wall.

"No. . .I won't go with you. I-I have got a boy back home who loves me. If you touch me. . .I doubt he could ever love me again. . .Please. . .I'll be quiet. I promise."

Jack raised both eyebrows in surprise. Did this girl really think he was going to hurt her, like. . ._that_? He swallowed hard, and took a step towards the door to the cell, keys in hand. "Well, even if you don't want to go in my room, you can at least roam around on deck. Just stay out of the galley and don't come back down here to the brig or the armory." He pushed the key into the lock on the door and turned it, the door opened, and he tucked the keys into his belt. "Coming, luv'?" He held out his hand for hers, and shook his head sadly when she shrunk back. "I may be a pirate, luv, but I'm not a beast. I've never treated a woman badly, and I've never touched one without her permission." He moved away from the cell, and took a step towards the door. "But if we're going to be making assumptions about each other, then mine is that you're weak and that I could easily get anything I wanted out of you, and that you're a spoiled, rich girl who doesn't care about anyone, but herself." He said, smiling as her eyes once again lit with fire. Turning on his heel, he walked out, the girl in close pursuit.

"Now, wait a minute, you crazy-man pirate! I'm not spoiled! My family is one of the poorest upper-class families in Port Royal! How can you say I'm spoiled!"

Jack sighed and turned to face the girl. "Low upper-class is still much better off than the normal to low common folk, or poor thieves like meself. Like I said before, spoiled AND rich." He smirked. "Not to mention weak. . ." He grabbed her wrist and yanked her closer. "I did manage to convince you to come out of your hiding place which makes things a lot easier fer me. Come on." He watched her red, angry face drain and go pale as she glanced down at the lock Jack had on her wrist.

"You just said that to stir me up and trick me! Why you-you, PIRATE!"

Jack bowed casually, a cocky smile plastered on his dirty face. "That's what I am. Rather proud of it too."

Mara attempted to pull away, slowing so much that Jack had to grunt to keep her moving. With every word she said they slowed more. "Well, you shouldn't be proud. Your line of work is an awful, illegal, stupid, cruel, twisted, evil, sick, maniacal form of idiocy! And I think anyone who's involved in anything of this sort, or involved with you, is a ninny and waste of flesh." She jerked her arm away as they stopped altogether.

Jack raised an eyebrow. Him? A ninny? Never. "Well, that's only YOUR opinion, Miss McArthur. It matters very _little_ to me." He watched the girl toss her brown curls out her face, standing with chunky hands on chunky hips, ready to challenge him.

"Well, I think-"

"ALLEY OOP!" Jack picked Mara up and tossed her over his shoulder with a grunt. She was indeed bigger than most girls. "No more time to talk, love, we're about to get in a sea battle." He groaned as the girl began kicking, hitting him in the face with her feet.

"A what!"

The young girl fell still, all of her weight bearing straight down on Jack. It was easier moving now, without her weight constantly shifting, as much as it was. "A SEA BATTLE." Jack climbed the ladder to the deck, huffing with effort. "You know, when two ships fire cannons at each other and sometimes board each other trying to kill as many of the other as possible so as to-"

"I know that! But how can the British fire on us when I'm aboard? Don't tell me it's other pirates!" The girl raised an eyebrow as Jack dragged himself and her across the deck.

"Nope. You were right the first time, they're Brits. They won't fire probably. In fact, our plan is to outrun them, us being on the fastest ship in the Caribbean in all. . . But just in case, I want them to be able to see you, Miss McArthur. As a sort of. . . reminder." He said, thinking entirely that it probably wouldn't be too hard for them to spot her no matter where she was, out of size of waist. But, he pushed the thoughts aside and concentrated on walking and keeping the girl from crushing him.

Finally having made the trek to the bow of the ship, Jack half dropped, half placed, the short girl onto the bowsprit, then pulled a pistol, cocked it, and pointed it directly at her. "Try to jump and I'll blast out your brains." He smiled, then, taking a long needed breath, turned his attention to the approaching ships at the portside, keeping watch on her out of the corner of his eye.

Mara clung to her appointed place fearfully, she glanced down knowing that if Jack's bullet didn't kill her, the drop would. Moments dripped by as she held herself flat, the breaths in her chest constrained against the wooden pole, she wondered if she would survive. Her feet just barely touched the top of the mermaid shaped figurehead, leaving her with an urge to climb down, but too great a fear of Jack's gun to actually do so. She turned her head carefully to see what Jack was doing. Jack, yes, Jack, the crazy-man pirate Captain who still stood brazen to the spot which she had last seen him. Gun pointed fore, head turned to port bow, his eyes shifting constantly, they all told the story she could see in the man quite plainly. An old kook with nothing left to do in life, EXCEPT be crazy. . . And rude, and vile, and evil, and dirty, and lowly. . . The list could go on forever in her mind, and, in fact, the list could hardly be long enough! She hated him. And that was a fact.

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I hope that wasn't too terrible. R&R to tell me what you think! 

Many thank you's to the two who reviewed the original chapter. You two boosted my confidence in this story quite a lot. :)

-Alori


	2. She's a spy of her own commission

:) Goodie for the readers. I've actually written another chapter to this rather abandoned forgottenfic. Hopefully with summer close at hand I'll have a lot of time to write, not too mention a lot of inspiration with the movie just a few short months away. Egads! I can't wait!

As usual, I don't own anything or anyone but Mara Jane McArthur. Everything else is copyright Disney and I'm not earning a dime writing this thing.

Now onto the fic!

(Hopefully I've fixed the Jack morphing into Barbossa thing. Seriously, that was one disturbing realization. Jack with an accent on paper equals Barbossa. Yuck. Let's not do that to the poor fellow, folks.:P)

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Paper Heart

As the wind blows through my dread locked hair, and cools my tanned flesh I almost feel adventure once again swooping down on me like an enemy pirate attacking from above. It's a feeling one never forgets. Once you've had the feeling, you crave it, like rum, it's an addiction you cannot escape, nor can it be ignored. I hold tightly to the crow's nest, lest I should fall, almost willing myself not to. It's a constant danger, but so is the life I live.

The life of a pirate.

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Entry 788

I don't think I have ever been as relieved as I am now. I'm cold and I'm wet, but Miss McArthur is actually sleeping. _Sleeping._ I never thought I'd find that word so beautiful- so magical. It was a struggle to get that far; a struggle which nearly ended in death for the girl. It did end, though, in the _Black Pearl_ missing a chunk of railing. And that's a bloody nightmare.

It all started with my ignorance of the fact that Mara can't swim. If I had, I wouldn't have endangered her so much by bringing her aboard a ship where she would be surrounded by water, with every instinct telling her she needs to escape. That would have been stupid. Unfortunately, I didn't know she couldn't swim, so I had no idea not to pick her for my little charade. After my ignorance, came my selfishness. That's what started me on the idea to quiet the her down by trapping her on a single wooden pole over water, in which she has no idea how to swim. Really, all I was thinking about was getting that girl to shut bloody up. I was stressed, and busy, and she was making my life worse. Well, she decided she'd had quite enough of me, as I had already decided the same about her, so as soon as I let her off the bowsprit she sprung from my grip and fled across the deck. Gibbs, my first mate, saw her and with a couple quick steps had gotten in front of her. Shrieking, she tried to dodge him, but he side stepped and blocked, then reached for her arm. She panicked when he did that and took two steps back, then tripped over a rope which sent her flying backwards into the railing. Of course, it promptly cracked and gave way. As she plummeted into the warm Caribbean waters below, I heard Gibbs let loose a curse under his breath. A curse which I wanted to take into my throat and scream, just to let out all my frustrations. Instead, I just stared at Gibbs who shrugged and went to the edge and looked down. His eyes widened and he turned to me, mouth pressed shut. "She's not comin' back up, Cap'n." I sighed then, and quite reservedly, removed my outer clothing: my hat, my coat, and my effects.

"I guess I'll be saving her, then." I walked to the edge and looked down. The still perturbed water held no sign of anything coming back up, so I jumped.

How many times has a woman jumped from my ship, either upset or angry with me, and I've had to save her? I really doubt I will ever know exactly. Too many to count.

Thankfully, she didn't struggle at all when I found her and grabbed her by the arm. Then I signaled, and Gibbs let down a rope which I tied around Miss McArthur's waist. Minutes later, we were back on deck. The moment I dropped her from my grasp she dragged her drenched body a foot away and collapsed in a slightly curled, fetal position, spluttering up sea water. She stared at me out of the corner of her eye and I stood and took back my effects from Gibbs, silently redressing myself. As I strapped my effects in place, I looked to Gibbs, probably looking more angry than I intended, for Miss McArthur shrank the moment I said, rather harshly, "Take her back down to the brig."

With a "Come along, little Missy.", Gibbs dragged her up by the arm and led her down the steps to the brig. She glanced back, and looking much frightened, never looked back again. After that, I hear from my first mate, that she fell asleep on the cot in her cell, almost immediately. And, well, it's about bloody time!

The whole purpose of the adventure has turned out a dud anyhow. My intention of keeping the Brits at bay, should they come within firing range, was never called upon. Either they weren't really after us, or the _Pearl_ has gotten faster as she's aged. Whichever, it made putting Miss McArthur in all that danger utterly pointless.

In fact, I'm getting a steadily growing inclination that we won't need the girl for much longer. She'll be back in Port Royal before she knows it.

And I'll be finally rid of the bane of my existence.

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"Commodore, they've out-run us, sir."

"Good." Norrington turned his face to the breeze. "I thought for a moment that perhaps Sparrow had gained a spine since I last tangled with him. Wondered if he might stay and fight—but no—he's run again, as I expected."

"Next course of action, sir?" Gillette asked with a lift of his chin.

Norrington turned and with brisk, authoritative steps, headed toward the helm. "We will pursue them and will appear in and out of their range of vision for the next week. Nothing more can be done until we receive the ransom notice. Which, I hope, we will receive more quickly if we make this villain sweat."

Gillette nodded, and with a bow turned and headed to the main mast, his voice crying out the new orders.

Norrington went abaft, but stopped at the door to the captain's cabin and went inside. "Sparrow thinks he can get away with these persistent crimes but he's going to find my zero tolerance methods are no longer amused by him." The Commodore muttered as he pulled a bottle of wine from a shelf. "I will not sit by as he ruins the reputation of yet another innocent, young girl—particularly one engaged to marry my own nephew. No. This won't go over well at all." He poured himself a small glance and seated himself to take a few sips. "This time, Sparrow, you won't be able to side-step my noose."

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Mara McArthur awoke to a strong lightheadedness and a bad case of the shivers. A loud and painful growl in her stomach made her sit up with the urge to find food. She held a sweaty hand to her perspiring forehead and looked around her cell—utterly at a loss as to how she would get the vittles she needed. She stood on trembling legs and took a step toward her cell door, a weak and hoarse cry rising from her throat. She clutched it and winced.

Alas! It burned more than her face. Unable to speak, she moved steadily closer to the bars, clutching her stomach as she went. More than once she nearly fell, her eyes shifting and lolling back into her head, but she stayed upright until she was able to reach out and cling to the bars themselves. At this point, she was unable to steady herself any longer. The floor moved with great speed toward her and her head unintentionally found a way to make noise with the aid of the walls of her prison. The clang resounded throughout the hold for a few seconds, but she did not hear it.

Jack shut his journal with an angry growl. He had just sat down to attempt another entry when the most irritating clang arose from the brig—though it was for the first time that morning, it was the fiftieth time in the past three days. He waiting for a moment to see if his captive would continue her clatter and was surprised to hear nothing but the crew's voices out on deck. Pursing his lips, he stood and headed out of his cabin, around the corner, and down the steps to the _Black Pearl's_ innards. He took the left and went down more steps to the brig. The sight that met him was more than exasperating.

The girl was sprawled on the floor against the bars of her cell, one arm tangled beneath her as if it were wrapped around her stomach and the other outstretched between the bars. She had obviously collapsed.

Resisting the urge to rush into the cell and take immediate, unplanned action, he gathered his strewn thoughts and made a decision. He had made yet another blunder on this venture. He hadn't given the girl a change of clothes out of her wet ones before exiling her in anger into his cold dungeon. By the flushed color of her face, he guessed she'd caught some kind of sickness containing a fever and, upon waking in such state, had collapsed against the cell and was promptly knocked unconscious. (Though, he doubted whether being unconscious came before or after the fall.) She had to be made well again, was all that was certain in his mind. For, if there was no girl, there was no ransom and there was more certainty that revenge for the adventure would be sought whole-heartedly. He turned and silently returned to the deck where he found Anamaria astern at the helm and Gibbs amidships fixing some rigging on the main mast. He called them both over.

"The girl—Miss McArthur—she needs tending to. I'm leaving her care up to the two of you. Take her from the brig to my cabin and give her whatever she needs."

Gibbs glanced at Anamaria, then shading his eyes from the sun squinted at Jack with a sort of grimace. "Has something happened, Cap'n?"

"Something of sorts. I think you'll be able to easily figure it out once you see her." Jack brushed past the two of them and, with jaw set tight, put his hands to the work of guiding the _Pearl_ to her destination. He didn't acknowledge Anamaria's 'Aye-aye' nor Gibbs grumblings about the trouble with having a woman aboard (which was silenced anyhow by Anamaria via infuriated glare) as the pair headed down to the brig. Nor did he even glance at them as they returned and went inside his room carrying the pale Mara McArthur between them. He had made his decision.

It was all his own fault.

---------------------

Entry 789

For the first time in nearly six months, my room is not my own. How long will I be forced to share it with the girl? Well, rather, the girl and Anamaria, seeing as neither of them trust me.

In my opinion, to even touch that girl by accident is to sell your soul to the devil, so I wouldn't try something with her even if we were the last man and woman on Earth. All of civilization will perish and turn to ash and I will not help make clones of that evil, loud, and obnoxious wench.

Strong words perhaps, but even as she lays sleeping, and as I sit here waiting for her fever to break so she can return to the brig, I loathe her presence. Just thinking about how much she lets her mouth run makes me cringe. In fact, I don't even want to think about how loud she's going to get when she wakes up, finds herself in my cabin, and realizes she was on the brink of death thanks to my stupidity. I'll never hear the end of it.

But even while I wish she wasn't here I have this urge to make up to her my mistake. It was my fault, after all, that she's in this mess and even more my fault that she's sick. No matter how much I hate her, I still have a heart. I pity her position and the guilt upon me for causing her to be ill is the heaviest of such a load that I've carried in quite some time. I wish I'd done better by her, in all aspects, because it is my fault.

---------------------

Mara could feel warm sunlight on her face and she opened her eyes to greet it. For a moment, she felt as if she was home again, in her bed, with the sun streaming in her window and the bed covers just so warm—she was disappointed to find that she was not at home. However, as she studied the room she found it curious to note her captor, Jack Sparrow, hunched over something at the writing desk, intent on writing. His hand moved swiftly and his face held an expression of agitation and something else she wasn't sure of. Just a grimace, perhaps? She studied him for a moment longer before shifting to find a more comfortable position. Why was she in here anyway? The Captain's hand halted from its work, and he relinquished a heavy sigh.

"How are you feeling?"

The question surprised her, to say the least, but she calmly answered it. "A bit under the weather, I suppose, but I can't say I feel perfectly ill." At this point she suddenly recalled what had happened in the brig. "Was I ill for very long?"

"No. Its only been a day and a half. Your illness was marked by a high fever and that alone. Under Anamaria's care it was easily broken and you were returned to being well." Jack shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He turned his eyes to her and opened his mouth as if to say something, but clamped it shut again, thinking better.

Mara blinked a few times and took a deep breath, still trying to fully awaken herself. A sudden realization made her glance under the covers, eyes widening in fear. "How dare you!"

Jack's eyebrows shot up. "I'm not sure I understand-"

"You filthy pirate! How dare you have undressed me! Why- why- that's practically rape and hope you didn't go that far!" Mara sat straight up, covering herself entirely in the blanket. "Tell me," she said through clenched teeth, her voice level rising. "how far did you go. I demand to know what evil you've done to me in my sleep and I've no doubt that I fell ill just so you could do with me as you pleased!" A teardrop formed in her eye. "How dare you. Filthy pirate!"

Jack felt the words slap him, but kept his face emotionless. "I did nothing of the sort. Anamaria did the undressing. I didn't dare touch you as you slept because I already-" He turned back to his work on the desk and stared at it. "I already owed you too much."

"What?" Mara curled under the blanket's cover more, considering the gravity of a pirate apologizing to his hostage. "You think you're in debt to me…?"

"I've done wrong by you, yes, and I owe you for my mistakes." Jack stood and moved across the room to his liquor cabinet. "I've put you in more dangers than I usually would with my captives; and it was because I didn't stop to think that you were made to return to the brig still wet and shivering—an error on my part that I need to make-up for." He pulled out a bottle of rum and took a quick mouthful. "However, seeing the interest in your eyes and how quickly your mind works now to think of someway to profit by my words, I will be the one to decide what must be done to correct my error. It's my guilt, luv, that makes me say what I have, and not some debt to you."

Mara watched as Jack propped himself up on the table by both arms, hunching over his rum. She could feel a sarcastic remark rising within herself, but swallowed it quickly. "Thank you."

Jack flicked his gaze to the girl then back to his rum. "I drink too much." He mumbled, returning the drink to its place. He sighed. "Did my ears truly succumb to drunkenness or did you really just say 'thank you'?"

"I really just said thank you, Captain Sparrow."

Jack stood in silence for a second, pondering what this could mean, but was interrupted by Anamaria's return.

"I've got the dress all cleaned up and dried, so I'll put her back in it before she wakes up and she won't be any the wiser-" The Negro female halted in course as she realized the young girl was sitting up and staring straight at her. She turned her head to look at her Captain. "I'm too late, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are, luv."

"Of all the blasted things… I'm sorry, Captain."

Jack nodded and motioned to Mara. "Just finish taking care of her. I'm going for a walk."

Anamaria nodded and turned her attention to Mara as Jack disappeared out the door. "So," She pulled the desk chair over to the bedside and sat down. "you're feeling better. Had to pull you from the grave, I did." She smiled as Mara's face whitened. "Just teasing, actually. The Captain was upset about it enough that one might've thought you were already pushing up daisies, but he's always been melodramatic." She held out the girl's dress to her. "I took you being asleep as a chance to pry this thing from you and clean it, since I figured you'd never agree to it while you were awake."

"You figured correctly." Mara said, taking the article of clothing. "But I leave it up to you to decide if I'm teasing just the same."

Anamaria let out a laugh and nodded, still smiling. "Alright. I deserved that. But you should know I only cleaned it for your own happiness."

Mara's smile fell from her face. "I won't be happy while I'm here, no matter what you do."

Anamaria sighed. "I know. It'll be over soon enough. We've just got to get the ransom money and you'll be as free as ever." She stood, shaking her head as Mara's tear streaked face was hidden in the folds of blanket. "Get dressed. You can't hide in here forever." She frowned when Mara's response was muffled in the sheets, completely inaudible. "I mean it. I expect you in clothes when I come back."

Mara shoved one lip forward, pouting as Anamaria disappeared outside. She stood, the blanket still wound around her body and fingered her dress where it lay on the bed. She glanced behind her and around the room to be sure she was alone before allowing the blanket to slide from her shoulders. She stepped into her dress and buttoned it up. She moved towards the door but stopped when she passed the desk where she noticed that a small, hand-sewn book lay a quill pen beside it. Pulling the desk chair from the bedside she sat down at the desk and opened the book. Her eyes widened as she quickly realized what the book was. "Why, Sparrow is keeping a journal!" She read a few pages, her stomach slowly turning to lead and sinking before she skipped to the last entry. At first, she felt like storming out on deck and slapping the man, but as she reached the end of the entry where he had been interrupted by her awakening she found herself wondering if she had been right about him. "He's so human." She muttered softly. "I can hardly blame him for what he feels as his opinions are nearly the same as my own." She giggled to herself as she picked up the pen and pressed it to the paper. "I don't agree with his opinions of myself, as he's entirely wrongon those points, I'll have to correct him at once."

---------------------

Entry 789

(As Continued by Miss Mara Jane McArthur)

Dear Captain Sparrow,

I find your show of heart quite moving. I only wish you would show it in public, because you might find yourself with more allies. However, I'm disappointed in your opinion of me. I had no idea I was a wench. I admit though, that I may have added to the build-up of distaste which caused these feelings. Had we met under normal circumstances, either as strangers on the street or at church or at a social event you would have found me far more polite. Perhaps, still suspicious of your intentions if you were dressed as you normally do (dirty and whatnot), but my wrath towards you would not have been as severe as it has been. How could you have expected anything but anger since you stole me from my home, threatened my life, and endangered my propriety. I could not be silent! You are a pirate, Captain Sparrow, and I am a woman of the upper class. You cannot expect me to hold you in any kind of esteem considering your position. Just remember, I am not the one to be pitied. I still have my propriety, my money, my family, and my friends back home. You, sir, have destroyed everything worth having in life by your choices. For that, I pity you.

Most sincerely,

Miss Mara Jane McArthur

---------------------

Mara closed the journal, satisfied with her actions. She put the pen back in its holder but nearly knocked it over when she was startled by the door to the captain's cabin opening. Anamaria's entered looking first to the right then to the left as she finally spotted the female hostage.

"I see you're up and about. Well, I'd say you're ready to eat something, in that case. Come along. The cook will make something for you down in the galley."

Mara hurried to catch up as Anamaria headed back out the door obviously anxious to get back to work. She sent a knowing glance and a smile back at the journal, still resting on the desk, and closed the cabin door behind her. She watched the floor as she walked, keeping to herself her satisfied smile, but a familiar voice caused her head to snap up a startled expression pressed upon her face. "Captain Sparrow!"

"You're awful happy to be escaped from my cabin."

Mara crossed her arms defiantly, but remembering the journal, uncrossed them and softened her expression. "I'm happy to be getting some food after being most unpleasantly starved for two days."

"Ah. Well, that would please any poor soul." Jack fingered his pistol and stared at it, suddenly finding it remarkably interesting. "I thought I would start closing my guilt by asking if there was any one object you wished you had which I might be able to obtain for you."

"I'd like a journal and pen set, actually." Mara dared not look at the pirate captain for a moment, wondering if he would suspect what she had done.

"That's truly what you want? A journal, and that's all?" Jack stuffed his pistol back into its holster, disbelief evident on his face.

"No. I want a journal and a pen. Don't resize my gift, Captain." Mara said with a small smile. "Is it too much?"

"No. Not at all." Jack scratched at his beard and throat, pondering the request. "I can get that for you." He motioned to Anamaria, who waited just behind Mara, for her to continue taking the girl to get food. "Go on ahead before the men get lunch. I doubt Miss McArthur will want to eat with them." He turned on his heel and swaggered into the Captain's cabin; the soft patter of Mara's footsteps on the stairs faded as the door shut behind him. He went to his desk and opened a drawer revealing a collection of hand-sewn books and quill pens. He picked out a book and pen from the identical collection and set it onto the desktop next to his own. Sighing, he sat down on the chair and flipped open his journal. Best to finish my earlier entry, he thought to himself. His hand fumbled for his pen while he began to re-read what he'd written earlier. His gaze fell on a section he knew he had not written himself and panic began to set in as the writer talked about his previous entries (obviously having read much of his journal). Anger took over as he read the final few sentences and the signature. He threw down his pen on the table and tossed the journal in a drawer. Leaning back in his chair, his hands found the secret container of rum tied underneath. "Bloody, blasted, overcurious girl. Not even five minutes! I can't leave her alone in my room for five minutes without her snooping around my things and prying into my private thoughts." He took a large swig, emptying the rum bottle and stood, kicking his chair into the corner. His straightened and corrected the position of his sword belt on his hips and began to pace the room. "How could I have let this happen?" Jack ended his pacing at the window of the room, staring out at the sea. Now someone knew his secrets and that someone was not a person he trusted to keep them secret. He grimaced. He had to keep her from telling the men what she'd read. It was clear by her writing that she thought he ought to tell the world his every feeling—something he did not want to do—and he did not doubt that with her personality she wouldn't even pause before telling someone his feelings—even without his permission.

She had to be silenced in whatever way possible. His pride depended on it.

* * *

Ahhh. I love reviews. They're so wonderful. :) Particularly ones containing constructive critisism. 

Take that as a hint, folks, and throw me a bone here! Reviews convince me I should update. xD

-Alori


	3. A Man of Fortune

Whoa. I actually wrote a chapter without instantly cramping up with writer's block for three months. O.O You guys got lucky. I actually got inspiration.

Huzzah for plot bunnies. :)

Hope you all enjoy this installment!

(A/N: Bold text signifies a sailing term that has a meaning/translation at the bottom of this chapter. If you don't already know these terms, here's your chance to learn 'em because I'm taking this chance to show off some things I've learned. To those of you more intelligent than I, if you find mistakes don't hesitate to correct me. Thanks!)

* * *

**Paper Heart**

As the wind blows through my dread locked hair, and cools my tanned flesh I almost feel adventure once again swooping down on me like an enemy pirate attacking from above. It's a feeling one never forgets. Once you've had the feeling, you crave it, like rum, it's an addiction you cannot escape, nor can it be ignored. I hold tightly to the crow's nest, lest I should fall, almost willing myself not to. It's a constant danger, but so is the life I live.

The life of a pirate.

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"Cap'n, Sparrow! _Dauntless_ approaching from **astern**!" Gibbs cried, collapsing his telescope with a snap. He turned his head as Jack came up beside him and opened a spyglass to look at the boat for himself. "What'll you have us do, Cap'n?"

"**Trim** the sails, **tune** the **rigging **and sail **close hauled **for awhile. Keep the men ready. We might be in for a fight this time, mate." Jack looked up at sails as they billowed and flattened sporadically. He turned back to Gibbs, his voice lowered. "The **eye of the wind **keeps trying to blink so we might find ourselves having to **kedge** or even **scull** to get away. With our man power against that of the _Dauntless_, we're going to find ourselves wishing we'd picked up more crew members the last time we were in Tortuga." He turned his eyes back to the British naval ship on the horizon and sighed. "We're not ready for a fight, mate. The best thing we can do is try to stay out of this one."

"Aye aye, Cap'n."

Jack put the spyglass to his eye once more, hoping he would find it harder to see. Much to his dismay, the image was closer and clearer than ever. Muttering, he stuffed the spyglass into his belt and swaggered off to see about the helm. "Bloody Brits have always got to come after me; they never leave me alone."

"They wouldn't be so persistent if you'd stop kidnapping their women-folk."

Jack shrugged off the comment and gripped the wheel with both hands. "Anamaria, love, we're pirates or aren't we pirates?" He turned his head to give her a skeptical glare.

"Oh, we're pirates, alright. I'm just not sure when we became brutes."

It didn't take long for Jack to turn himself back to the wheel, face full of frustrated anger. "Sure," He mumbled under his breath. "the lass snoops in my journal and I'm the brute." With a heavy sigh, he leaned into his left hip and watched his crew scurry about. Now, not only did the girl know his secrets, she was trying to muster up a mutiny. Damn the wench, he thought to himself, how could any of his crew be on her side?

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Entry 790

There's not a bit of breeze to be felt—not even a backwind to take us the way we don't wish to go; yet the _Dauntless_ makes no move to **kedge**, so we'll save our strength until it does.

I've never felt as weary as I do now. We've been on the brink of a battle for a day now and I've been on the brink of losing all control. Just knowing that Mara could reveal my thoughts at any time is driving me utterly mad. Moreover, I can't decide how I should approach the girl about it. Shall I hint at my frustration or just confront her directly? If it weren't for the fact that I'm the one holding the pistol, I'd be entirely at her mercy.

And that's a first.

I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. I'm the most infamous pirate in all of the Caribbean (soon to be the world, heh). And I'm the one who ransacked Nassau Port without firing a shot.

But what does any of it matter when one girl knows every secret that could undo the mystery that is Captain Jack Sparrow?

I never could have foreseen this disaster, nor can I foresee the girl's reaction to our future confrontation. Is this my fault for writing my secrets in a journal?

Or am I truly just a victim of circumstances?

---------------------

Cotton turned his head and squinted to shield his eyes from the sun. Jack had come out of his cabin earlier than usual. The old, mute sailor fingered the rigging and paused to study its roughness with as much scrutiny as he studied his Captain. He was mute, but he knew more about Jack Sparrow than anyone in the crew. Always silent, he watched everything that went on around the _Black Pearl_ and he alone knew what Jack was really doing inside that cabin. At least, he was pretty sure he was the only one who knew Jack kept a journal. The Captain would spend at least an hour every day secluded in his cabin, writing about the events of the day, and his thoughts. Cotton had never dared, however, to read the entire journal to find out what it said. He had read a page or two when he had first become a member of Jack's crew, but had since then stayed out of it.

Jack, as he strode across the deck, appeared far more agitated than usual, but Cotton was of a mind to attribute it to the lack of wind and the Brits not far behind, if Jack's eyes hadn't flicked toward the galley with disgust written all over his features. The sound of Mara McArthur's loud, bossy voice floated up the breezeway and met Cotton's ears. Ah. So that was the cause of his agitation. Certainly, the girl had been a bit of an irritation to much of the crew over the time she'd been aboard, but nothing that should merit such fire as was in the Captain's eyes. Was there something he didn't know about? Some conversation he'd missed? Cotton turned back to his work with a sigh. He'd have a lot of snooping to do later in order to solve this mystery, but in the mean time, he didn't care to evoke the wrath of Gibbs.

He'd have plenty of time to eavesdrop when his work was done.

---------------------

Jack leaned against the **foremast** his beaded dreadlocks knocking softly against the tall wooden **spar** behind him. He still didn't know what to do. He frowned and raised his hand to his face; it was dirty. He sighed and began to try to rub away the dirt that had sunk into every crack and crevice of his hand. The sleeve of his shirt fell away from his wrist in the process, revealing to his eyes a tattoo and an old scar. He turned his wrist to examine the markings. All the while, anger swelled in his breast. It was a P for pirate, P for pig, and a P for person scorned by anyone of 'high stature'. With an oath, his hand fell to his side. She couldn't respect him because he was a pirate—a damn scallywag. Or rather, she wouldn't.

She did have a choice about this.

His eyes shifted to the stairwell as Mara emerged, closely stalked by Anamaria. Most of the crew was still below deck, save for the girl and Ana, Gibbs and the mute Cotton. Gibbs could be trusted, Anamaria could be sent below, and Cotton couldn't repeat anything he heard anyway. Talk about opportune moment. He watched as Mara caught his gaze and turned away with a small smile he couldn't interpret. Had she guessed what he was thinking? Was she prepared for what he would say? On the other hand, perhaps she was mocking him because she knew the infamous Jack Sparrow had feelings. His mind was made up. He stepped out to face **astern** from whence Mara had come and cleared his throat.

"Ana, love, if you don't mind, I'd like you to go below while I have a word with our dear lass, Miss McArthur."

Anamaria's eyes narrowed and she proceeded to back away. She knew her place, but she wanted Jack to know she didn't like it one bit.

Mara was none the wiser about the exchange of glares as she walked boldly up to her captor and clasped her hands together. "What did you wish to speak with me about, Captain? Is something the matter?"

The girl's smile was more than irksome. "Actually, something is the matter, lass. And it needs to be dealt with immediately."

Mara took the moment when Jack took a breath to cut in. "If this is about," She paused and looked back towards Gibbs, who was perfectly well away, sitting at the helm, and Cotton, who was much closer but at the **mizzen mast**, suspicion in her brown eyes. She flipped her head back to Jack. "If this is about the note I left you the other day, I appreciate you being man enough to come forward and seek a chance to ask more of my advice. I can only assume that your approaching me is an acceptance that I am right and that you are wrong. I'm surprised, but pleased to see this effort on your part."

Jack took a step back as his breathing quickened. His gaze flicked to Cotton, who seemed closer than before, then shifted back to Mara, his eyes wide and wild. "Is that what you think? You think you're doing me a favor by giving me advice?"

Mara's head tilted to the side as she studied the man before her. As usual, he was acting like a lunatic. "Well, of course. What else do you think I was doing? Leaving you a death warrant?" Her laughter drew even Gibbs's far-off stares. "Why, Captain Sparrow, you're a silly pirate! Why would I do anything but offer advice?"

Jack was silent as he pondered his options. Think fast, Sparrow, he told himself, but words poured out of his mouth faster than he could collect them. Every speech he had prepared in his mind to tell the girl came like a waterfall. "You've read my journal, I know that, love, but what I don't know is what you intend to do with the information you've learned. To how many people do you plan to expose me? How much of a mutiny are you intending to stir on my ship? No, lass, that won't do. I won't have it aboard me own ship! You're going to be silenced if I've got to force you to visit Davy Jones himself to do it!"

Mara's face whitened instantly, then turned beet red. "You're as mad as the day I met you! Your accusations against me are absurd! I had none of those intentions, Sparrow; none at all!"

Jack couldn't stop. He cut back into the conversation with the fear that had been brewing in his belly now taking over—not to mention the large amount of rum he had consumed in his cabin—he gripped Mara's thick wrist tightly in his hand. "I'm quite serious, love. I will silence you meself if you can't handle the job. No one hears about what you know or else. Is that understood, Miss McArthur?"

"No! You understand this. I'm holding all the cards here. As it is obvious you do not wish to have your secrets told, I have those to blackmail you with. You threaten me with pistol and sword and I have the entire Royal Navy to avenge my life. Really, do you even believe for one second that you can win the 'struggle' you've confronted me with?" Mara's sharp tongue had outdone itself this time. She felt the gravity of what she had uttered weigh on her as she wondered what Jack's response would be; and she didn't have to wait long.

"Ah. So, that's how it's going to be, love? I'm completely at your mercy for the rest of my life; at least until death relieves me from my misery?" Jack's grip on Mara's wrist tightened. "There's nothing I can say apart from begging that will release me from this revenge of yours?"

"So you're saying you won't beg?"

"No."

"Pity."

Jack's grip released and Mara quickly stepped back from him. "Fine." He said as he stumbled past Mara, pushing her aside as his mind's goals switched from confrontation to escape. Within seconds, he was within the retreat of his private cabin, but he could not feel safe. His demise was entirely in the hands of girl that had sworn to hate him. And everything had gone completely wrong.

---------------------

Within three days, the wind had returned and with it, the steady voyage of the _Pearl_. The _Dauntless_ had, oddly enough, never **trimmed **its **canvas** after the wind's return and had disappeared into the horizon, silent and unmoving. With its disappearance came the return of Mara's whining and pouting, but Jack seemed unmoved by it this time around.

It was impossible for every man in the crew not to have noticed the extreme alterations in their Captain's moods. Always sour faced and mostly silent, Jack seemed brooding at least and downright furious at most. All avoided him when possible, which was not a hard task as Jack had spent an increasing amount of time in his room. Every eyeball watched the door to his room when he was inside. They all wondered intensely what he was doing. Cotton remained the only one beside Mara who had any possible ideas, but even they were wrong.

The journal hadn't been written in since the confrontation with Mara over a week ago. Jack had hidden it away the moment he had returned to his cabin and had been too angry even to try to write. He was almost too afraid.

Mara took this as an opportunity to think about what Jack had said. Over the past few days, she'd come to several conclusions. One was that Jack was extremely sensitive to others knowing his thoughts and was an incredibly private man. Two was that he had assumed his worst fears had come true when he'd discovered her note and had plotted to try to correct what he had thought to be a dire situation. Three, was that he was as confused as she was at this point and whoever managed to pull themselves together first would get the prize at the end of the game. After all, her being his hostage had only been a game to him in the first place, so she figured it was only sensible to continue playing the game with whatever rules she had observed to be applicable. This meant, if she figured out how to say it, she could probably get anything she wanted out of Captain Jack Sparrow--even her own freedom.

With a sly grin plastered on her chubby face, she approached the Captain's cabin door and knocked. All eyes instantly turned to watch what would happen.

The door opened a crack and Jack's weary face appeared. He looked Mara up and down before nodding reluctantly. "Come inside, love."

Mara stepped in and watched Jack shut the door. He looked terribly ill to her eyes and she almost felt a pang of guilt for the request she was about to make and the blackmail she was about to take advantage of; but her own eagerness to return home silenced her voice of mercy. "I've come to negotiate a treaty for my return to Port Royal. This is the one thing I am willing to promise secrecy for. My freedom, for your peace of mind."

Jack's tired eyes never moved from their focus on the floor. "Aye. I see nothing in it for me."

"What?" Mara furrowed her brow. "But I said I'm willing to keep your secrets, well, secret! You only have to return me to Port Royal without demanding ransom. It's a fair trade!"

"Not exactly. You see, I know nothing of how honorable you are. I can't trust you. Thus, your promise means nothing to me." Jack's face lit up with a smile for the first time in a week. "You're trapped here, love. I can't return you to anyplace where I can't keep my eye on you, but I can't kill you because the navy would double its efforts to have me hung." He grinned. "It's funny, ain't it, when the tables turn and suddenly you're the one left lugging the basket?"

Mara felt tears sting her eyes; she'd lost this round. "You can't keep me here forever."

"Oh, but I can, love."

"No! You can't keep me here forever!" Mara turned and gripped the door handle with one hand and pressed against the wall with the other. As she tried to fling open the door, Jack sprung forward with one quick step and pressed his foot against the bottom to hold it closed. Mara continued for a moment to open the door, but all her tries were in vain. She was as trapped in here as she would be out on deck, but here she was trapped with the man she hated. The man she loathed.

The cry of anguish that arose from Mara's throat was terrible. She knelt down against the door, her face in her hands, and as she hid her face against the wall, her tears watered the floorboards.

Jack made no move to comfort her. Instead, he reached over and turned the lock before sitting down with his knees to his chest. He leaned his back against the door and sighed. Bowing his head, he silently listened to the sobs for which he knew he was responsible: The sobs of a young girl whose only wish was to return home.

---------------------

Entry 791

I'm at a loss. For the first time I feel pity for my hostage. Most would find this not particularly surprising (or even a relief), but it strikes me as odd because this pity was stirred by a girl I hate; someone I wouldn't have thought twice about throwing overboard if it had come to it. Just days I ago I was threatening her life over the fact that she'd read my journal and discovered some things I'd prefer no one know, but after last night...

She hasn't moved yet except to shift slightly. Surprising—I know she's not sleeping that heavily. She cried herself to sleep against that door, trapping me in here unless I dared to move her to the bed, but it doesn't matter. Should an emergency arise I'm sure the yelling will awaken her for me.

I'm used to the tears and the wails and the sobs that always come from the girls I kidnap, but the utterly wretched cry that came forth from her throat tore my heart to shreds. She's always been a bit more animated and emotional than the others, but that cry shook me to my bones. I truly don't know what to make of it.

The only thing I can make out is that I had her motives all wrong. She just wants to go home, she's overly curious sometimes, and she didn't even begin to comprehend what was being said in my journal let alone be able to use it against me. Her words were a reaction to mine. I jumped to conclusions and stirred things that weren't even beginning to cook.

_She just wants to go home._

This ship is my home. I have a tendency to believe anyone can feel comfortable here, but I know that's wrong. Her home is in Port Royal with her boy and family and friends. I took everything of value from her. She brags of money and high stature, but she's like anyone. She just wants her home, freedom, and safety. From now on, I'll have to remember that those three things come differently for everyone. Home is not always a ship, freedom isn't always the open seas, and a pistol on your belt does not make everyone feel at ease.

Still, her personality irks me even while pity begins to form in my heart. I don't intend to take back what I said for that reason. Not yet. I'm still a **man of fortune** and I still need money to live off of. I'll let her think I intend to stick by my words until I get the ransom. Once I do, she'll be free before she can say 'Commodore Norrington'. I owe her much more than that, but I've nothing more to give.

---------------------

"Commodore."

James Norrington gripped the edge of the _Dauntless's_ railing as he stared into the horizon. "Yes, Lieutenant?"

"Commodore, the men are getting antsy." Gillette watched as James's face remained passive. "They're beginning to wonder if we'll ever catch back up to Sparrow." He tried eagerly to swallow a large lump in his throat, but it remained fixed in its place. Norrington's calm, but grave voice responded after a pause that had been all too lengthy.

"Are you getting 'antsy', Lieutenant?" James fixed his stern gaze on his second in command. "My plan will work and it is not your place to go along with the apprehension of this able-bodied crew. Those pirates cannot have gotten that far along with only one day's head start." His eyes sought the edge of the sky once more. "We know where they're headed anyway. All villains travel to one spot when they need to hire some other villain."

"Commodore?"

"They go to Tortuga, Gillette! They go to the most wretched place of scum and villainy; that is where they go. Is that so hard to understand?" James turned and found himself face-to-face with Gillette. "It will never matter how far behind we fall; we will always know wherethe _Black Pearl_makes berth so long as God himself does not smite Tortuga from the face of this Earth." He took a deep, calming breath and straightened as he clasped his hands behind his back. "My apologies, lieutenant," His face held an expression of regret. "I was out of place."

Gillette said nothing, but nodded and slowly turned away. In a sudden realization, he flipped back to his commander. "We're all worried about her, James. We always hear the horror stories about girls kidnapped by pirates but we know Sparrow well enough. He's a good pirate, but he's too smart to cause too much trouble." He reached out and set a firm hand on James's shoulder. "We'll get her back in time."

Coldly, James turned his eyes to the sea. "I can only hope so, for the sake of Miss McArthur-" He looked back to Gillette and clasped his own hand on the other man's shoulder. "I swear to you, she will be rescued and be wed while her mother still lives. It's Mrs. McArthur's dying wish that she be witness to her daughter's conjugal. I will not disappoint when such a thing is at stake."

Gillette flashed Norrington a smile. "I'll tell the men to keep faith."

The Commodore nodded with a brief smile and turned on his heel. As he watched as his men worked tirelessly to keep the _Dauntless_ sailing at top speed, he knew in his heart that they would make it in time.

There was no second option.

* * *

**  
Astern **- Behind the boat.  
**Canvas **- Slang for sail. Originally sails were made of canvas.  
**Close hauled** - Sails and boom pulled in tight, enabling the boat to point as high as possible to the direction the wind is coming from.  
**Eye of the wind **- The direction that the wind is blowing from.  
**Foremast - **The mast in the forepart of a vessel, nearest the bow.  
**Kedge** - To use an anchor to move a boat by hauling on the anchor rode; a basic anchor type.  
**Mainmast** - The tallest mast of the ship; on a schooner, the mast furthest aft.  
**Mast** - A large wooden pole used to hold up the sails.  
**Man of Fortune **- A slang term for pirate. Most well-known use came from Robert Louise Stevenson's "Treasure Island".  
**Mizzenmast** - The shorter mast behind the main mast.  
**Scull** - Moving the rudder or oar in the stern back and forth in an attempt to move the boat forward.  
**Spar** - A pole or a beam.  
**Rigging** - The lines that hold up the masts and move the sails (standing and running rigging).  
**Trim** - To adjust the sails, also the position of the sails.  
**Tune/Tuning **- The adjustment of the standing rigging, the sails and the hull to balance the boat for optimum performance. 

Many hearty thanks to my reviewers! **Jillie Rose, Miran Anders, MeraSparrow, Nicole Egeni,** you guys are why I'm trying to finish this thing. (And to the creators of this site, your Hits Counter in the Stats section is only there to drive me mad. So many people peek at my work and turn away, disinterested. T.T Gah. I don't like knowing the numbers. I just like to see the reviews. :P )

Thanks for reading my work! Don't forget to critique.

Oh! And come back and read more if the plot bunnies continue to grace me with their presence. :) I hope to have another chapter up within a month.

Reasonable expectations, right? xD

-Alori


	4. Flowers in a Slobbering Abode

(Two hours after chapter is entered a review is entered that causes the authoress alarm. She quickly races back to her story and reads it over. Alas! Part of her story had disappeared when it was entered. Breathing hastened, the authoress hurries to correct the mistake and three sentences are added to the end. Not what had originally been there... but good enough.)

**Mera Sparrow:** Bless you, dear. I swear that whole Jack making birth thing was a typo. Goodness knows, I am embarrassed about it, though. You also pointed out that I had not clearly defined what the secret(s) were. Well, to tell the honest truth, I hadn't ever considered that being a problem (which it is). I think I sort of assumed that people would understand that Jack didn't want people to know his opinions/thoughts/ideas in general. He likes to keep things close to the vest, you know? But now that you've pointed that out, I realize that was a major plot hole on my part. (EGADS! A PLOT HOLE! O-O;;) I don't know how I'm going to correct this mistake, but I'll fit it in somewhere. I needed some more things for this fiction anyway. Thanks much. :)

**Kilala81:** Wow! Glad to have you aboard! Your reviews were great to read. Thanks for the grammar help.I always get confused about where to capitalize and where not to when interrupting a character talking with action/thought. ' Your explanation was quite helpful, so hopefully I've corrected all of that sort of mistake in this chapter.

**Nicole Egeni:** You're the pushiest reader I've ever had on one of my fics, but you mustknow I love the encouragement. :D

**pirateobsessed:** OO' Angsty fics? Uhhh... I've never seen one of those... -shifty eyes- I never write anything remotely angsty. -COUGHchapterthreeCOUGH- xD Haha, but I agree with you, mate. OCxJack is just boring because I've seen it too much. Same for Jack angst despite the fact that I feel like my Jack thoughtfulness might be bordering on angst. :P Thanks for your review. I love having new readers.

DISCLAIMER: Go back to chapter one and read that disclaimer if you must see one. I feel that if you didn't see the disclaimer in the first chapter you're probably not reading this one either. So off wit ya, landlubber!

* * *

**Paper Heart**

As the wind blows through my dread locked hair, and cools my tanned flesh I almost feel adventure once again swooping down on me like an enemy pirate attacking from above. It's a feeling one never forgets. Once you've had the feeling, you crave it, like rum, it's an addiction you cannot escape, nor can it be ignored. I hold tightly to the crow's nest, lest I should fall, almost willing myself not to. It's a constant danger, but so is the life I live.

The life of a pirate.

---------------------

Mara opened her eyes to darkness and, finding herself face-to-face with a wall, turned away from it flat onto her back. Her right arm fell limply to her side and she brushed her fingers against what was beneath her. _Wood._ She tried to stretch out her legs but found them tangled in something. She sat up on her elbows and reached for whatever it was. After feeling about for some time, she discovered it was a blanket. _I slept on the floor all night._

The young girl's eyes then caught a glow of light coming from the desk. A single candle was lit in the room, casting a strange glow on the things around her. She shivered. Standing, she made her way over to the window and pulled the curtains open, allowing the afternoon sunlight to invade the room. As she turned away, she was startled to see the sleeping form of Jack huddled in the corner, a blanket tucked over his knees and under his chin. She didn't dare approach him at first, afraid he was actually awake, but when she listened closely enough she realized he was snoring, though softly. His tri-cornered hat had fallen down over his eyes, making it easy to imagine him smiling secretly, ready to scare her the moment she got close enough.

Deciding she didn't really want to find out if he was truly asleep, or not, she went to the door to leave. Much to her distress, she discovered it was locked and not long after that she also discovered the lock was jammed. She wiggled it, but it remained stuck tight. Glancing apprehensively at the pirate in the corner, she turned back to the door with more determination and jiggled the lock again, but harder. She suppressed a whimper when the lock still would not yield. She became frustrated and tore at the lock every way she could think of that might convince it to release. She stilled everything, however—even her breath—when a hand gently grasped hers and the smell of rum became saturated in the air around her.

"I wouldn't recommend doing that, love. You could cut your hand." Jack gently pulled Mara's hand from the lock and set his own to work on it. Within seconds, the door was free to open. "It's a bit touchy sometimes. The lock, I mean." He sighed and scratched nonchalantly at the back of his neck. "Hope you don't have too many kinks after sleeping on the floor. I would've moved you, but I thought it better that you got some sleep."

Mara slowly reached for the door handle. "Thanks." Her hand shrank back when Jack grasped the handle without hesitation and opened the door.

Jack did pause, however, to look around the room. "This is your room for the rest of your time here. I'll be back later to clean out my things." He nodded at Mara. "Relax until then, love."

"My room?" Mara glanced around at the expanse before turning back to Jack, her head shaking with distress. "No- no, you can't give me-" She jumped back as the door closed in her face. "Your room…" She turned and pressed her back against the wooden door. "My room…?" Her eyes narrowed as she peered around at the darkly painted walls. "Well, if that's so, then I guess I'd better truly make it mine." She marched angrily to the window and grabbed the black curtains with both hands. "I'm sure it won't matter since I can never leave until I lose my memory, go insane, or Sparrow dies." She let out a half-choked laugh as she violently ripped the curtains from the wall. "The last option seems the superior of the three."

---------------------

Jack clambered up the rope ladder that hung on the foremast and struggled his way over the railing of the **crow's nest**. "Aye, Gibbs." He said as he sat cross-legged across from his ship-mate. "See anything?"

"Not a soul, Cap'n. Not a bird, nor beast, nor sailing man. The seas are empty 'cept for us."

"Well, I'm sure the fish are out and about." Jack said with a grin.

Gibbs returned with a laugh. "Well, a'course, Cap'n. Them's the creatures that are always around. You just can't see 'em, so I figured no need to name 'em as present and accounted for."

Jack nodded, still smiling as his eyes shifted to stare at the door to the Captain's Cabin. "It's not mine anymore, Gibbs."

"What's that, Cap'n?"

"I gave my room to Mara." Jack's face softened slightly as he turned his back on what he had been looking at. "I told her it was hers from now on."

"Well, blasted, what'd you do that for?" Gibbs said, shifting how he was sitting to be closer to Jack.

"I don't know," Jack reached into his belt and pulled out and old cloth, then began to slowly polish his cutlass. "But this means I'm sleeping with you and the crew, eh, Gibbs?"

Gibbs broke into a wide grin. "You can be sure of that, Cap'n. We'll make you feel right cozy down there in the **fo'c'sle**. Make sure you get the best bunk, and all that."

Jack smiled. "You won't get the chance, mate. I plan to sleep out on deck every night—so long as the ship isn't rocking off its very **cabin sole **with bad weather. Won't be sleeping much then, anyway…" He sheathed his cutlass and turned to face his first-mate. "How about a nice, friendly game of cards, aye? You know, to pass the time."

Gibbs nodded as he slipped a pack of cards from his shirt pocket. "And I suppose you want to play 500 Rum, as usual?"

"You know me too well, mate."

"Real shame, isn't it?" Gibbs quickly began to shuffle the cards and deal them out.

"Especially since I'll have to kill you." Jack's eyes barely peered over the top of cards as he held them up in his hand. "Real shame."

Gibbs chuckled at first, but unable to see if Jack was smiling or not, fell quiet. "You know, you've been strangely moody lately, Jack." He laid down a couple pairs before daring to say anything more. "Is something bothering you?"

The cards drew away from Jack's face revealing nothing but seriousness. He laid down a pair of cards and sighed. "It's more like someone, Gibbs."

The gray haired first-mate hid his face behind his cards, pretending to study them while protecting his expressions of worry. "Well, Cap'n… er… This someone, he wouldn't happen to be anyone in the crew, would he?"

"No, it's a she, and it's Miss McArthur I'm referring to." Jack pulled a card from the deck. "She's driving every inch of me crazy."

Gibbs opened his mouth, but his attempt to speak morphed into a knowing smile. He tapped the side of his nose and chuckled. "I know what you mean, Jack. She's a wild one, she is." He sat up and glanced over the edge of the crow's nest at the Captain's cabin. So… the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow could be undone by an overweight girl with a big mouth? Odd couple, Gibbs thought to himself, but then, Jack always was an odd sort of man. "I expect there's not a lot of competition for the lass back home."

Jack's brow furrowed, but he didn't look up from his hand. "No, I suppose not." It seemed to be a rather large jump in the conversation topic; so what was Gibbs talking about anyway? It didn't really matter to Jack since he didn't want to dive into the topic of Mara and his troubles with her. That would too easily lead to conversations about other certain objects—ones namely called 'journals'. "She's got a boy back in Port Royal, or so she claims."

Gibbs frowned. "Too bad."

Jack snorted, his face twisting into one of disgust. "Aye. Too bad for the boy."

Gibbs eyes immediately widened and he hid himself behind his ever-dwindling hand of cards. Had Jack just implied that he was willing to kill whoever Mara's boy was? All just to win her heart? The old sailor sometimes didn't doubt that the accusations of Jack's madness were true. "That's a bit of harsh speech, Cap'n. The two might actually be in love. No need to be disgusted by it just because you feel a certain way about the girl."

Jack eyed Gibbs, his mouth open and unmoving. He took a breath, then shut his mouth. Didn't Gibbs feel at all sorry for a boy that was someday to marry _her_? In Jack's mind, that was hell at a peak of its fury. "I suppose. But this is Miss McArthur we're talking about here, mate. Think about it."

"Well, Cap'n…" Gibbs found himself at a loss for words. What was he supposed to say? Jack had just admitted to being in love with Mara—and to wanting to kill the boy who was courting her—but Gibbs didn't dare say anything. Love was fickle; it often drove even the most sensible man to madness, so what could it could do to a man already thought to be crazy? Very cautiously, Gibbs put forth a response. "Jack, don't you think it'd make the lass hate you if you separated her from the boy she was in love with."

"She already hates me, Gibbs. I've nothing to lose in that aspect." Jack rubbed at the sweat forming in his bandanna under the heat of the sun. What was Gibbs trying to get at anyway? The boy would probably be better off without Mara's loudmouth and bossiness, but it wasn't like Jack was actually intending to get involved. Heck, he didn't even intend to go anywhere near Port Royal, so how could he get involved? "I just cannot deal with that girl." Jack threw down his last pair, winning the game much to the dismay of Gibbs. He stood and stretched his arms over his head. "But I really came up here to ask for your help."

Gibbs squinted in the sunlight as he looked up at Jack. "Anything, Cap'n."

"I need you to play along with me whenever you talk to Mara. I need her to believe she's staying here for the rest of her life, savvy?" Jack sheathed his cutlass loudly, as if to make a point.

Gibbs pursed his lips, but nodded. "Aye, Jack. I'll play along. But you'll owe me a drink when we get to Tortuga." He smiled as he said the last part.

Jack grinned as his eyes drifted to look at the door to what was once his private cabin. "Thanks, mate." The lanky pirate sprang down the ladder from the crow's nest, heading off to the helm the moment his feet hit the deck.

Gibbs watched his Captain swagger off, anxiety clouding his thoughts. "Jack's certainly daft, but I hope that this time he hasn't crossed the line."

---------------------

Entry 792

Mara has gone and locked me out of my own cabin. Though, I admit I did say it was hers for the rest of her time here, and I did imply that she could never leave, so she has every right to believe it's permanently hers instead of temporarily… But I'm Captain Jack Sparrow! and that room is the Captain's Cabin aboard MY ship, the _Black Pearl._ I should think that no matter what I say, I still have at least some rights to that room. However, in her opinion, I can have my stuff when she's done doing whatever it is she's doing in there.

But she's making a ton of racket in the process, and I'm, once again, wishing I could throw her off of my ship.

What's going on in there?

I think I just need to get her out of my mind while I wait for the time when she'll let me in, but there's nothing else to think about.

Gibbs and I had a rather odd conversation up in the crow's nest over a game of 500 Rum. In fact, the whole conversation has made me certain that he doesn't know me as well as he used to. Am I growing that distant? Ironic that I've gotten so good at keeping things close to the vest that even Gibbs can't read my thoughts. It wasn't really my intention, but it works.

The craziest thing is, we were having a conversation about Mara and he seemed to disagree with me about how maddening she is; all the while he was definitely agreeing. Almost like he thought I should like her instead of hate her, but no doubt this comes from him only witnessing her bossy side and not her fiendish, sneaky, and snooping side. (Which is more proof that she's trying to rile up a mutiny. Now even Gibbs doesn't mind her.)

Blast that girl! She knows everything about me. My fears, what troubles me at night, what embarrasses me, the reasons why I do certain things… Just everything. She knows more about me than I do her—and that's a problem.

But I've decided one thing about my journals. When they're full they need to be thrown to Davy Jones, and until that time they need to be kept in my belt and nowhere else. The _Pearl_ is too small to be hiding journals on. I can't make that mistake anymore.

Which is why I need to get into that cabin! There's a secret compartment I built into the wall where all of my journals have been hidden. If she finds it-

I don't even want to go there. She can't find it. I'll definitely maroon the lass if she does. A regrettable action, to be sure, but it'll be better for her than me eventually being driven mad and shooting her sometime in the night.

Or maybe I should just start with plan B right now. She just threw most of my stuff out of her door onto the deck and-

Bloody wench! That's a box of my journals!

---------------------

"Mara! Open the bloody door!" Jack pounded his fist on the door to the captain's cabin for what seemed the hundredth time. "I'm not asking nicely. Blasted! Open up!"

A muffled voice came through the door, not sounding at all ready to comply. "Come back after you've put away those things. Then you can have more of your stuff."

"Mara! I said I was coming back to get my stuff meself! Reason being, I did not want you to handle my effects!"

"Then you shouldn't have told me this was my room until after you had removed all of the items that you wanted."

Jack pounded his fist vainly against the door one last time before turning away and kicking at the stuff by his feet with a frustrated cry. Eyes narrowing, he bent down and scooped up the wooden box with the journals inside. A voice beside him made him jump and turn the open side of the box away from the owner of the voice, who happened to be Anamaria.

"Captain, she'll come around. Why don't you just leave that poor child alone for once?"

"Anamaria, really." Jack eyes shifted nervously between the crate in his arms, the door, and the woman beside him. "I appreciate your concern, but that's my bloody cabin she's commandeered and those are my bloody things she's putting her bloody hands all over." As Anamaria crossed her arms to communicate her irritation to Jack he turned to face her more directly intending to make his irritation plainer as well. "I told her I'd be back. Now I'm back. And she won't bloody let me in!" The pirate Captain's eyes went wild as his anger was revived. "The wench!" He shifted the weight of the box to his left arm and began to once again pound on the door with his right. "Open this door, Mara, or, damn you to Davy Jones's locker, when I get in there you'll regret this!"

"That's a real good motivator for her, Captain."

"Damn right."

"Captain." Anamaria grabbed Jack's shoulder and yanked him from the door. "She'll open it when she needs to. She can't last forever in there. She'll need to eat sometime."

Jack's frustration was evident, but Anamaria's logic was even more clearly expressed. Without another word, Jack sat cross-legged by the door, the wooden box, now covered by his coat, beside him. "Fine. And when she does I'll be sitting on my bloody bum right by this bloody door."

Anamaria turned on her heel, her head shaking with mild disgust, as she headed back off to her duties.

Jack watched the female Negro leave, still fuming from her interference. He certainly didn't want to wait five minutes let alone how long it might take for a stubborn young woman to give into hunger. And what if the girl passed out before she decided to open the door? He'd still be locked out and she could be dead before he got to take his vengeance. Grumbling, he stretched his legs out straight and stared at the wooden box. Now was his chance to drown his every written thought and plan to Davy Jones, but as his hands found their way inside the wooden crate and around one of the many journals inside, he found himself not wanting so strongly to destroy these collections of his own history. They were, after all, representing many hours of time taken out of his lifetime for the project of calming his thoughts… But having them aboard the _Pearl_ endangered his constant goal of keeping things close to the vest! As he flipped through the pages, his eyes found an account of one of his experiences at the orphanage.

_It was the day I first lived in a home for orphans. Before then I'd lived in two places: my wretch-for-a-father's mansion and the gutter. I arrived at that hell-hole with nothing but the clothes on my back and the small shilling in my pocket; everything else had long before been lost to me._

_I was only seven, yet the very first thing I was told was that I shouldn't hope to be adopted. Nobody wanted anything but babies. Any child older than three was already set in their ways and too hard to keep charge of. It became clear to me that all adults would be like my father and to them I would always be something they would seek to be rid of. From that first day, I knew I'd only be there till I was old enough to work or become indentured to some place of trade. They made sure I understood that, but I don't think they'll ever understand just how clear they made themselves._

The journal was suddenly ripped from his clutches.

"Captain Sparrow, I thought you'd jump at me the second my door opened, yet here I am having to get your attention." Mara nonchalantly tossed the journal into the crate. Jack's eyes loyally followed the book's path from her hands to the box, then retraced the path back to her. He silently glared at her, unable to think of something to say. Mara was not so much at a loss for words. "And no. I didn't leave you any lovely messages in any of those books, if that's what you were looking for. I kept my ruddy nose out of your muck this time—and that's a promise."

Jack scrambled to his feet, action finally returning to him. "I should hope you'd have learned that particular lesson by now, love." He towered above her, his hand flying to hold his hat on his head as he tilted. "Now if you'd be so kind as to allow the return of the rest of my things I shall promptly leave you alone to retire in your room as you please."

"Why thank you, Captain." Mara calmly stepped aside and held out one hand towards the door, motioning for him to go inside.

"Don't bother thanking me, love. I'm in no mood to play etiquette." Jack tromped past her, but froze the minute he was inside the doorway. "What have you done?"

Mara grinned and stepped into the room beside Jack. The palm of her hand rested against her cheek as she watched his reaction. "Like it?"

Jack stared around himself in awe, shock and horror as he realized that the room was not _quite_ as he had left it. Thin, white cloths—seemingly patched together like a quilt from other things—had replaced the once thick, rich, purple curtain tapestries. The sheets now seemed to be made of the purple curtains while what had been the sheets lay cut up in odd shapes in the corner. What Mara had been doing with the sheets was a mystery far less interesting than the rest of the room. As he studied the area, he noticed that the small bookshelf had been rearranged entirely by different standards than his own, the pens had been organized in rum bottles whose necks had been smashed off and piled on the desk, the contents of the desk were stacked on the floor instead of in the drawers, and the most curious thing was that the dresser door was wide open, and everything that was supposed to be inside was gone.

"Mara, love, where are me clothes?"

"Well, your shirts went towards the new curtains and your pants went towards two new pillow covers and part of a new canopy for the bed."

"But that isn't a canopy bed; it has no way to hold up a canopy…"

"I know. I had to use the wooden poles from your second layer of curtains—which I consider unnecessary—to make it a canopy bed. I think it'll look quite nice when it's done, don't you?"

Jack could feel his teeth painfully grind together as he struggled to maintain composure. "Perhaps." He turned around to face the girl. "Mara, I needed those clothes. They're what I so desperately wanted along with the journals."

"Well, you've got the journals."

"But I haven't got me clothes!"

"You've got what you're wearing."

Jack glanced down at himself, mouth hanging open as Mara continued.

"You're a scruffy pirate. I believe you able to handle wearing scruffy clothes." With a small smirk, she pushed past Jack to the curtains and began to adjust them. "I do wish to thank you for the room, Captain."

Pulling from himself his last ounce of calm and composure, Jack stuck to his plan. "You're welcome. And except for this accident about me clothes it's a good thing you redecorated. May as well be comfortable for you in here since you'll be staying on the _Black Pearl_ for quite some time." He paused to smile before continuing. "Perhaps your entire life, actually. Enjoy yourself, Miss McArthur." He strode out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

She'd redecorated his room… That was ok. It could be put back the way it was. But she'd redecorated his room! ...Though, not permanently-

"The girl dies in the morning!"

Gibbs jumped in surprise. He turned and followed after Jack as the lanky pirate stormed around the deck. "Surely you don't mean that, Cap'n?"

"I do, but you're right I don't."

"I don't follow…"

"Gibbs, I gave her my cabin and she redecorated it! She's making it a woman's sewing and flower arranging heaven instead of the slobbering, drunken pirate abode it was meant to be."

Loud laughter could be heard from the helm making Anamaria's glee evident.

Jack ignored the interruption. "That bloody frustrates me, Gibbs, so I want to kill her but I can't; or have every British navy in existence, not just the navy from Port Royal, after my carcass."

"I see." Gibbs said as he scratched his chin. "Maybe you could just order her to put it back the way it were before."

Jack glanced around the deck, and seeing only Cotton nearby, continued speaking in a more hushed voice. "But I need her to feel like that cabin is going to be hers forever. You know what we talked about earlier, right?"

Gibbs nodded. "I remember."

"Well, if I tell her the cabin has to stay the way I had it, she'll suspect that I don't plan on her staying in it for all time. I won't be able to convince her."

"That's quite a dilemma, Cap'n." Gibbs pulled his secret rum pouch out of his shirt and opened it. After thinking about the Captain's request for some time he'd come to one conclusion. Jack believed that if he convinced Mara she would be staying there forever she would eventually give up on marrying the boy back home and turn to loving him instead. A crazy plan, but that was Jack Sparrow for you. "I'm sure whatever she does in there can be reversed later, Cap'n. Just keep your eyes on the goal. Stick to it and she'll come 'round to your level right soon."

Jack grimaced as he stared at the closed door to what was once his own cabin. The fire of his anger against Mara had been re-awakened in this latest mishap.It all made him certain he still hate her just as much as when she'd first come aboard. He watched Gibbs take a drink from his rum pouch."I hope so. I'm not going to live long if she doesn't."

* * *

**Cabin sole** -The bottom surface of the enclosed space under the deck of a boat.  
**Crow's Nest** - Protected look-out position high on the foremast.  
**Fo'c'sle / fore castle** The extreme forward compartment of the vessel where the crew often sleeps. 

Well, I'm sorry this took so long to update. I've been very busy with school and everytime I sat down to write I realized I had something else that had to be done or I'd be road kill.

But I did get it done before a month passed! Haha :D

By the way, the reader responses at the top are a one-time thing. From now on I will use the reply button on the reviews to answer questions or comment on your comments. My reason for this is Mera Sparrow made a really good point and I really wanted people to hear my thoughts on it, but I felt guilty responding tojust her so I left a little note for all of my chapter three reviewers.Hopefully this won't get my story deleted. >.>

Hope you enjoyed this installment. :) R&R if you please!

-Alori


	5. Irreversible Damage

x.O I'm sorry it took so long to get this chapter up. Dreadfully sorry.

Next couple of chapters are rather complicated. Causing me some grief over how to make the plot twists understandable yet interesting. Geez. I haven't experienced enough in my life to come up with good situations.

BUT, good news. I at least have inspiration and no writer's block. :D Not to mention I got to see Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest on the 7th. That gave me TONS of inspiration. At least on Jack's personality and what-not.

Hope you enjoy the chapter. :)

And to those reviewers that disappeared last chapter: You all made me very sad. :' I love you guys. Why'd you leave me?

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Paper Heart

As the wind blows through my dread locked hair, and cools my tanned flesh I almost feel adventure once again swooping down on me like an enemy pirate attacking from above. It's a feeling one never forgets. Once you've had the feeling, you crave it, like rum, it's an addiction you cannot escape, nor can it be ignored. I hold tightly to the crow's nest, lest I should fall, almost willing myself not to. It's a constant danger, but so is the life I live.

The life of a pirate.

---------------------

It didn't take long after Jack had stormed out on Mara for him to begin to once again wonder what sort of things the heavy-set girl was doing to his room. Or just what she was doing in general. And it was as he wandered about the deck doing his chores that it became obvious to several particular members of the crew that his mind was not at all on his work. Jack's gaze was never focused on the horizon and the _Black Pearl_ was beginning to thus drift from her proper course under Jack's distracted guidance. His only focus seemed to be on the floor beneath his boots which served as the roof for Mara's cabin.

Anamaria was utterly fed up with Jack, and, through devices of her own creation, ended up sitting with Gibbs in the galley talking over mugs of rum. She noted Cotton taking his shift to clean dishes, and since he was mute and the cook was on deck, she decided it was a fine time to express her opinions to Gibbs about Jack's behavior.

"We'll never make it to Tortuga if he continues to act like this. We need to stop there and move on quick as we can, Gibbs, and that won't happen if he's too busy throwing daggers at that girl with his eyes."

"Whoa, whoa. Ana, take a step back here. You're talking too fast for this old sea dog and I didn't hear a word you just said." Gibbs took a sip from his mug of rum. "Alright, now what's yer complaint?"

Anamaria raised a brow at the older first-mate before her, and with a frustrated sigh, started again. "You're Jack's best mate—truth?"

"Aye."

"Have you any explanation for his recent moods?"

"Only one, but I don't think it's somethin' I should be talkin' 'bout without Jack's permission."

"Fine." Anamaria wiggled her chair closer to the table. "But as Jack's best mate, couldn't you tell him to pull out of this wretched disposition? He's obsessed with being upset over Mara and it's going to get us all killed." She began tapping her finger solidly on the table to ease her anxiety. "If the Royal Navy catches back up with us…" She eyed her pistol then turned her gaze back to Gibbs, eyes narrow. "We'll all be hung within a month's time if not already cut down or shot in the hell-fight that's gonna be raised."

"Jack's feelings are very well his own, Ana, you've got to understand that." Gibbs leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh. "I can't turn his heart any better than you can." The old sailor quirked his lips before lifting his rum to them and taking a long drink. The silence weighed heavily upon the two conspirators. Finally Gibbs moved to speak again. "He's in love with her, that's what, and he can't sail straight because he's too busy thinking about her."

Anamaria's jaw fell. "You're joking?"

"Nay, Ana. I'm not."

"He told you that; in those words?" Anamaria could barely contain the riot of questions and disbelieving comments just beginning to storm about in her mind.

"Well, no. But the last time we had ourselves a little chat up in the crow's nest he very clearly suggested that he was in love with her." Gibbs shrugged. "I always figured he was lookin' for someone as odd as him to settle down with, though she's a might bit odd I suppose it could work out... I mean-"

"That's crazy! He's not in love with her. I can see the pair squabble with my own two eyes. They hate each other. They absolutely, rabidly, unreservedly loath each other…"

Gibbs's head shook ever so slowly, drawing Ana's words to a halt. "That's not what he told me. Face it. They've got something between them. I think the anger is just their way of being in disbelief that they're actually falling in love. It's practically a hobo and a princess match-up if you think about it. Not surprising that they're fighting it."

Anamaria tuned her ear to the sound of Jack's warbling crooning up on deck and paused before speaking, though now softly. "I've had several talks with Mara when I've had to escort her to the galley and back and she's always seemed so genuine when saying that she hated Jack. If there's love there, its one-sided. I'm sure of that."

Gibbs's face fell. "You're likely right. She does seem rather set on her 'boy back home'— But that brings me to another curious thing that Jack mentioned." The first-mate scratched at his whiskery chin for a moment. "He implied to me that he was willing to kill this boy just to win Mara's heart. Of course, I told him it was folly, but he didn't seem listen to a word I said. I'm not suggesting he's actually going to go kill this boy, but he did say he thought it was the only way he'd get her for himself."

"You're pulling my leg, Gibbs. Jack's not that daft. You know he's not that daft!" Anamaria leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. "At this point, you're just being a gossipmonger, Joshamee Gibbs, and I don't believe a word you're saying."

Gibbs set down his rum with a loud bang. "I'm no liar, Anamaria. I'm just telling you what Jack said to me. He professed love and a desire to kill Mara's boy. Never mind if any of it goes anywhere, because it probably won't, but if these are the things that are in the forefront of his mind right now I can assure you he's got no sanity at the moment."

"Oh, good. His moods can be explained by a lack of sanity instead of a full-blown case of cupid's arrow. Holy mother of the world, Gibbs. Like that's any better!" The hot-headed Negro woman stood and tossed her mug into the basin of water that Cotton was still using to clean some utensils. "Let's just hope Jack straightens out presently. We need to get to Tortuga, get our supplies, then move on to Isla De Muerta to hide out for awhile. Hell, maybe we ought to consider leaving Mara in Tortuga. Forget the ransom. I just want Sparrow back." She turned back to Gibbs, her expression softened and weary looking. "How could he love someone that hates him and never notice how much I care about him?"

Gibbs sighed. "I know, Ana. I know." He stood to move beside her and placed one hand on her shoulder. "I always thought you two were a better match, but nothing is certain yet. Don't give up till he's down on one knee proposing to her." As an idea drifted into his mind, he smiled. "And she has to have accepted too. So you've still got yer chance."

Anamaria shook her head. "I just don't know anymore, Gibbs. I thought the only thing he could ever love was this ship." She moved to the doorway, Gibbs's hand falling from her shoulder and to his side; she placed her own hand on the door's frame. "It's just too much to think he can love anything else if it's not going to be me."

Gibbs watched Ana's crestfallen frame shuffle out of the galley and flopped back down into his chair to finish his rum. Things were indeed become twisted aboard the _Pearl _now that Jack was assumed to be in love with Mara who was obviously in love with the boy back home who probably loved Mara as much as Anamaria cared about Jack whose whole heart was usually occupied by a love for sailing (and the _Black Pearl) _but was now possibly open to Miss McArthur who really didn't love him at all and instead loved a boy back home who loved her back..

The twists of this life drama seemed to always come around in a circle and start again. But things were more uncertain to Gibbs's now that he had listened to some of Anamaria's objection and in the forefront of his mind, when it came to Mara and Jack, he knew he had been wrong. There was no love between them.

But in the back of his mind many questions were still alive and unanswered.

Gibbs finished his drink and with a heart-heavy sigh handed his empty mug to the mute dishwasher, Cotton, who stared at him with his usual wide-eyed silence. The old sailor stared back at Cotton for a moment and his lips twisted into a grimace. "Aye, I think yer lucky to be mute. You don't ever get involved in these ridiculous social affairs."

Cotton nodded silently and returned his attention to the washtub at his side. He watched Gibbs out of the corner of his eye as the first-mate yawned and stretched his back before exiting the galley in the same direction that Anamaria had disappeared to. He scowled and scrubbed more diligently at the plate under his fingertips. Not directly involved, yes, but when he knew more about what was going on than anyone else in the matter, how could he be excluded from the list of those 'involved'? He grumbled silently in his mind. Always and by everyone he was considered a non-threat—a mindless dummy. It was as if everyone believed that when his tongue had been cut-out so had his brain; but that wasn't true. They didn't know the story behind his forced silence. They didn't know he had been a calculated traitor to his previous crew or that when it came time, he had known the right things to say and how to say them—and to who—in order to save his own skin.

The only thing he hadn't calculated into his plan was that those he had betrayed might catch up with him and when they did they would very much want to even the score: a mistake never to be repeated.

Cotton pressed what was left of his tongue against the roof of his mouth and almost smiled. The ones who were dumb were the ones that had never bothered to find out that he could read or write before spilling their secrets to each other in his presence. He had no plans as of now to betray this crew, not wishing to risk further mutilation of his body, but he knew if he was ever given the choice of betrayal or death, the crew of the _Black Pearl_ would get the open end of the pistol.

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Entry 793

It is very quiet.

The shock of Mara redecorating my cabin is wearing off and I don't feel so angry about it anymore. When she said all she wanted was a journal as payback for my mistake she was just like every normal woman and she didn't really mean that was all she wanted.

So, I figure she's going to keep taking it out on me, stubborn girl that she is, with every turn of this adventure, and I'm just going to have to get used to that. **C'est la vie**, as the French say. **Scuppers **under, if I must, I'll **sail by ash breeze**.

But Davy Jones take my soul if I ever let myself become **becalmed**. She's going to wear completely down before I do, and that's that.

When I'm finished writing for the night I've got the stars to entertain my sleepless mind. It's such a beautiful night. Sleeping out on deck is far more exhilarating than sleeping in that stuffy Captain's cabin—any day—no matter what any old sea salt says. The only thing good about being Captain is being the one to decide where you're headed: what sights you see. Other than that, it's less worrisome to be a sailor than a Captain. I appreciate that simplicity more than I thought I would.

_It is so quiet._

Hah. I can't hear Mara at all. She's utterly silent. How soothing… How-

Frustrating, actually. I want to find out what she has been doing all day! I want nothing more than to know exactly what she's done to my cabin. But, no, I just have to practice patience. I have to restrain myself and trust that anything she changes can be put back to the way it was…

I'm beginning to feel that my motives have turned from money to vengeance. I believe that I genuinely want to get back at Mara for what has happened, and the embarrassment I've suffered. A healthy motive to kidnap a girl? Possibly not.

But I'm doing it anyway, aren't I?

I'll get no answer from you, my Paper Heart—my journal—but I know the truth within my flesh:

I am a wretch— a filthy, devilish wretch who cares nothing for the feelings of others.

Shall I be changing my ways then, since I recognize them as crooked?

No.

I am who I am— and I don'tchange who I am forany sort ofpity, merciful reason or excuse.

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The Journal of a Lady in Distress;

Captive by Pirate

Day 18

_By Miss Mara McArthur_

Despite the title of my exposé announcing that it is day eighteen of my captivity, this is the first time I have had a chance to write of it.

Quite simply put: Life has been dreadful.

It began with my violent kidnapping from Port Royal—a place I have called home for a few short years—and I have remained in said state for much longer than pleases me. Indeed, I have spent much time during my captivity wondering if my decision to live so close to pirate infested waters was a good one. I'm beginning to be quite concerned about what possessed me to move to Port Royal.

But enough of that sort of speech. It is time now to focus on only the facts.

After being kidnapped, I was most improperly treated. First, I was tossed overboard into chilly waters then thrown into a damp cell to rot for days upon days. By the time they took me out again I was nearly dead. Then they nursed me back to health only to play many wicked mind games with me by taking my clothes and leaving me with only a blanket to hide under—and in the presence of a man!

I begged my clothes returned to me and only after a long, cruel laugh did the wicked pirate Captain return to me what was mine. And he is a beast! Sinful, dark brown eyes stare at you surrounded by some kind of dark powder, perhaps Egyptian kohl, and his filthy locks of dark brown hair have been improperly kempt to appear in bunches— And trinkets have been pinned in the clumps to make him look even more wild! His skin is dark and burnt and he always smells of rum and liquor. Everything about him speaks so plainly of his villainous ways and were it not for the tri-cornered hat that he wears so compulsively, you would likely be able to see the horns that sprout from his skull. His nails are filthy and the grime can be recognized as dried blood if you are unlucky to be close enough to look! I dread every time that I must gaze upon him. (And he forces me to see him often, just to torture me for he knows he is hideous!)

It is just dreadful.

And to think, within a week we shall be stopping in a place they call Tortuga. The crew talks of other pirates we will see there. But I do not wish to go. They say no one from the Navy ever goes there because it is outside the jurisdiction of Britain. Well, if it is, then why am I, an upper-class woman, going there if a male British officer will not!

Oh. I do dread the coming hour when I must step off of this boat to my doom. I fear I will not be a captive on this ship for the long years with which Captain Sparrow has threatened me if I get off this ship. I am desperately frightened.

To my loved ones in Port Royal, I am quite sorry that I will be unable to say goodbye in person. Pray that my death will be quick and painless despite the fact that it seems my destiny is to be tortured mercilessly.

To Jesse, c'est la vie, my love. I would have wed you if my life had not gone in this lonely direction.

_Mara McArthur_

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Mara stared down at what she had written, tears forming in her eyes. "It's not really all that bad," she mumbled to no one but herself. "But it does feel awful." As she clutched the journal it began to bend in her tight grip and her tears became hot and spilled into the hollows just below her eyes. "I cannot make myself any happier by lying about my treatment. Tomorrow I will write a correction, but today…"

Mara's attention drew itself to the rest of the room. Though more cheerful and feminine than it had been, she was still unhappy with it. The windows were stuck shut and it was stuffy because she didn't want to open the door for chance that Sparrow would show up at her portico. She had few candles to light it and it was night time, forcing her writing to be scribbled and unsure because of the dim lighting. She didn't care to admit, that even in her situation, she was bored. "I haven't even got anymore sewing to do. Nothing. There's no cross-stitch patterns of quilting material, just what's left of Sparrow's pants and a blouse which I couldn't find use for. What am I to do with that?" As her eyes drifted to her lap, she began to study the dress she was wearing. As a well-to-do woman of the upper-class she had never been forced to wear the same dress for a week straight, let alone eighteen days. It was dirty, and somewhat more worn that it ought to have been. There were also several tears in the material from accidents she'd had while building the canopy of her bed. And this was supposed to last her until she could be freed when she was supposedly trapped here forever?

A dubious idea.

She scrunched up her nose and began to scratch at a stain with her nail. Something had to be done about clothing; and she wasn't going to get the solution from Sparrow! Slowly, her scratching stopped. Her eyes narrowed, and glistening with angry tears, they turned the blouse and cut-up pants on the floor. A solution had now been formed in her mind. She sprang up from the desk chair and leapt upon the clothing. The pants could be re-sewn together—fashioned into britches!—and the shirt was good as-is. She smiled as she took the pants back to the desk to work on them. She'd save her dress for when she had to get off the ship or for when the navy finally caught up with the ship. She could put the dress back on when she thought she was about to be rescued so she'd be ready to go home! But in the meantime; she would wear pants—a daring idea—but a practical one. Nothing would suit life on a ship better than britches and a loose shirt.

Mara smiled at her own resourcefulness. It would not be the first time she'd worn pants, but if she could survive life on the _Pearl_ and escape back to Port Royal, it would certainly be the last.

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Jack Sparrow was having a pretty darn good day.

According to the calculations his navigator had made after **shooting the Sun **at its zenith they were within a week's time of Tortuga. Perhaps less, but they wouldn't know that until they had found their new longitude and that would require a few more clear nights when the moon finally made an appearance. It had been gone on holiday during its "new moon" cycle and had succeeded in making Jack a very impatient man. He was ready to be at his destination or at least know specifically how far he was from it.

This newfangled way of book sailing was quite often handy, but tiring. He'd had to hire a specific navigator and he'd also had to learn patience. It took time to wait for the right periods in the day to take the measurements and it took time for the calculations to be derived from what information was gathered through the ship's **sextant**. But Jack was happy to admit that for once in a great while he was having a very good day.

Anamaria couldn't say the same. She'd grown more miserable as Jack had shown signs of being more content. Somewhat sub-consciously, but mostly willingly she had become colder to Mara and had passed off the duty of bringing the girl meals to Mr. Cotton; who did the task with his usual obedient silence. Gibbs had wisely begun to keep his distance from Ana because he knew precisely what was putting her on edge. Her mood swing was why he'd tried to convince her it wasn't his business to leak the details of his conversation with Jack, but, as usual, Ana had easily pulled all the information she'd wanted from him. He personally never understood how that happened, but everyone else knew it was because he was addicted to gossip and tales, specifically about Jack, and was always looking for a time to spread more rumors about the pirate Captain.

Jack didn't particularly mind.

The _Pearl's _Captain leaned hss back against the deck railing—grinning—with his arms crossed over his chest. He watched his men work, quite happy to take in the smell of the salty sea breezes that blew across the ship. His head nodded slowly. Yes! tThings were finally returning to normal.

Jack's eyes caught sight of the cabin door opening and for a moment his breath caught in his throat.

A glimpse of his cabin!

But, ho! Treachery! She'd found a bucket of whitewash Jack had been using for a few projects and had begun painting the walls of the cabin with it! It was irreversible damage to his room!

He steadied his trembling breath and started towards Mara who'd come out, backwards, carrying a dirty plate, cup, and some utensils. The look of her made him want to laugh despite his frustration. Eyes twinkling, he winked at Anamaria. "I see now why you defended the lass, love. If she's got enough spunk to wear britches she's got enough spunk to be a pirate woman same as you."

Anamaria, half smiled, shrugged, and said nothing.

Jack watched as Cotton took the plate from Mara, who joked about it getting accidentally whitewashed with the rest of the walls, then waved at him as he silently hurried down to the galley. She straightened her shirt and pulled up on the pants before opening the door to her cabin. She paused then, and in what seemed to be a sudden decision, propped the door open. It was then that she noticed Jack's gaze following her.

Mara nodded at him, catching his eyes with her own, then jerked her head toward the cabin. "The whitewash stinks and the window is stuck. I assume it's no good for either of us if I suffocate to death."

Jack grinned. "No, it's really not at all." He uncrossed his arms and moved next to her, staring into the room with a heavy hearted sigh. "It'll look nice when you're through, though…"

"So it will."

"And are you going to do all the other walls too…?"

"Yes. They need to match, you know."

"Ah. A'course they do, love." Jack sighed. "I can get those windows open for you if you want."

Mara eyed the tall man suspiciously, but feigned squinting in the sun when he looked down at her. "That would be quite lovely, Captain."

Jack took a step into the room, then rocked backwards and turned to face Mara. "I see your talents have altered a pair of my pants to your own size. You must be very talented, love, to get them to fit you." He leaned his head back enough to take a look at her with one swift glance.

"Cut them off at the knees and added the extra cloth at the sides to make them wider. You, sir, are a very skinny sort of person. I'm surprised I got them to fit me too." Mara grinned. They were teasing each other in ways that had become non-hostile. When that had happened she wasn't sure. Maybe it had been her hiding away in the cabin so much that had given them enough of a break from each other to be peaceful, or just the near-ness to a port where they could get off the ship, had calmed them. Even coming to grips with being stuck on the _Pearl_ for awhile might have done it, but no matter which way it went, it was nice to be able to talk politely even if he still irked her with the way he acted or thought. "Are you going to keep staring at these clothes or fix my window?"

Jack's head snapped toward the inside of the room, away from Mara and a thought process he had been following. He went to the window and glanced back at her with a shrug. "Sure, love. No big problem here, just a pull of a lever and a good shove then-" He paused to breathe as he pressed himself against the glass. "it comes free!" He grabbed onto the window frame to keep from falling out as the window popped open. "There you go!" He sprang to the door and stood on the outside edge of it looking in, somewhat eager to be away from the changes that were taking place in his old cabin.

Mara's mouth hung open for a short moment as the breeze raced through her room, then turned to Jack with a shocked, but happy expression. "No idea it was that simple."

"Well, you know now, do you not?"

Mara laughed and looked down at her feet. "I guess I do, Captain." She looked up and nodded to him before turning away to finish the whitewash.

Jack nodded curtly to the petite woman and also backed away to finish his own work. "That beats all. I never thought she'd go to wearing pants." He grimaced as he finished his train of thought from before, back when Mara had interrupted him about the window.

One question entered his mind. "How maddening am I to drive an upper-class woman to such lengths of impropriety?"

xoxxox

**Becalmed **- To have been made motionless by lack of wind.  
**C'est la vie** - Such is Life. (Not a sailing term, my sillies! It's French, but I felt it ought to have a definition anyway. :P)  
**Sail By Ash Breeze **- A shipping term that refers to using the oars for power when there is no wind to move the ship.  
**Scuppers **- Holes through the ship sides which drain water at deck level over the side.  
**Shooting the sun **- Using a device, such as a sextant, to find the latitude of a ship by measuring where the noon sun is in the sky and comparing it to what time of year it is.  
**Sextant **- an instrument for measuring angular distances used especially in navigation to observe altitudes of celestial bodies (as in ascertaining latitude and longitude).

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-.O Well, now, how was that, hmm? Is it getting any better? 

New characters make appearances in the next chapter. :) I'm excited. You should be too. >D Buahaha.

Let me just say that the Commodore should be coming along any time now, someone is going to be the cause of much grief to Jack and his crew, and a certain scrawny and naive boy is going to challenge Captain Jack Sparrow to a duel to the death. Enter much crying, pleading, and blood.

**Manythanks to** - all my reviewers, but especially Mera Sparrow and Nicole Egeni who were the only ones to review chapter 4. :)

R&R if you can find it in your hearts to critique a weary and desperate writer. May'haps it will encourage me to write faster?

Hope you enjoyed. :D

...Oh. And I was kidding on the blood thing, by the way. :P


	6. Didn't See That Coming

I got one review! Hurrah! Hurrah! MeraSparrow is a doll. :) She wrote me a precious review! -pets review- My lovely… My preciousss...

O.O Whoa. Anyway... Onto the next chappie. This one was quick to write. :D

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**Paper Heart**

As the wind blows through my dread locked hair, and cools my tanned flesh I almost feel adventure once again swooping down on me like an enemy pirate attacking from above. It's a feeling one never forgets. Once you've had the feeling, you crave it, like rum, it's an addiction you cannot escape, nor can it be ignored. I hold tightly to the crow's nest, lest I should fall, almost willing myself not to. It's a constant danger, but so is the life I live.

The life of a pirate.

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It had taken a full week to arrive in Tortuga.

Mara draped her legs through the **bulward** and stared off to the town laced in the night's darkness and decorated in torch lights and drunken screams. It looked and sounded quite terrible. She pondered, at length, why a Captain would take his crew to such a place, but upon a glimpse of what—and who—was surrounding her she remembered the reason.

They were pirates.

She closed her eyes and breathed in the night air, knowing fully that behind her was Gibbs: ready with pistol, cutlass, and rope should she try to jump ship. It would've been a tempting idea had they been docked anyplace else, but it was not so tempting at this particularly unappealing town.

Mara had thought originally that she would be forced to trek about in Tortuga and follow Jack on his errands, but when she appeared dressed to go ashore he had ordered her to stay aboard the boat with Gibbs and Anamaria. This plan had rather pleased her own preferences so no arguments had erupted at the time. Jack had left with good speed and was due to return with the rest of the crew by morning.

Where they planned to go after that she had no idea. All she knew was that the main plan was to leave Tortuga at once. She thought it odd and mildly worrisome.

Loud whispers between Gibbs and Anamaria drew her attention.

"Anamaria, you've been in a mighty dark mood lately. Care to talk about it?

"No."

"Alright, then."

"Are you certain he's in love with her?"

"Anamaria, you just now pressed upon me that we weren't going to talk about this."

"Right." Anamaria breathed a heavy sigh. "But has he said anything else about her?"

It was Gibbs's turn to sigh. "No, Ana. He's mentioned nothing. The only thing he's talked about all week is making it to Isla De Muerta. Ever since we spotted the navy on the horizon that one day he's been in a spook, same as the rest of the crew. We've outrun them for now, but they obviously figured we were headed here."

Mara's eyebrows creased. Isla De Muerta? Where was that? She leaned her forehead against the rail and felt her heart sink. A secret berth, most likely. Impossible for the navy to find, even! Oh, dreadful news. She tuned her ears to Gibbs and Anamaria once more, dismayed at what else she might learn.

"…just hope they haven't been able to figure out the lat. and long. for De Muerta. The navy was there once before but they seemed unable to track their position. The only reason, Jack says, they got back to Port Royal was with his explicit instructions. He took them roundabout ways to and from to utterly confused them."

Gibbs chuckled. "Aye, so he did, Ana. Seems to have worked too. They won't catch us. At least, I've no fear of it."

Mara drew back her head from the railing and wiped her face with her hand. She stifled a sniffle as she stared down at it.

Tear drops were upon her palm.

"Unhappy hour... And suddenly I am faced with an unparalleled doom and a certain fate to stay with these demons and devils." Mara could barely hush the words from her lips for fear of being eavesdropped upon as she had Ana and Gibbs, but she felt compelled to speak from a loneliness that had begun to clutch at her heart. "I suspended my wedding from a weakness to nerves and now my only fear is never getting a second chance to bind myself to the man I love." She folded her hands in her lap, studying her ring-less fingers. "It's a shame it took me till now to realize what a fool I was. -And what a fool I still am."

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"Are all our forces in full operation? The time for our ambush on Captain Jack Sparrow is nearing." Norrington looked square into the eyes of his second in command. Gillette returned with a positive grin.

"Yes, Commodore. Every man is armed. The ship we called over from the other port has arrived and they say they too are fully prepared."

"Good." The Commodore put his hand to the hilt of his own blade which dangled at his hip. "Sparrow won't escape his fate this time. He won't see us till we round the peninsula and by then it will be too late. We will be in position to attack and upon him before he has a moment to react. Man-to-man combat is our main priority. We cannot shoot holes in the _Black Pearl_ so long as Miss McArthur is aboard. We cannot risk her death."

"But without disabling the _Pearl_ with the long-nines she'll be able to sail away—and with our men aboard!"

"That is a chance we shall have to endure. At last need we will set the sails ablaze with fire, but I anticipate that so long as we attack the helmsman and keep anyone from approaching it again henceforth, the ship won't be able to go any sort of distance." Norrington watched Gillette fidget, considering the plan.

"It's risky, Commodore, but you're right. It's our only chance."

"Of course it is. Everything is hazardous when pirates are involved." Norrington looked at Gillette and gave him a brief smile before striding to his desk and seating himself. "You are dismissed, Lieutenant."

With a bow, Gillette moved to leave. "Thank you, Commodore." As he closed the door to the room he took in a deep breath and blew it out heavily. "I hope this works."

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Mumbling his favorite tune of devils and black sheep, Jack climbed up the ladder of the ship; several large parcels strapped to his back. He grinned at the sight of his first mate awaiting him on deck. "Aye! Gibbs! Lovely day for a trip into Tortuga, isn't it?" He untied the bags from his back and let them drop to the deck, motioning for Cotton to gather them and take them to their place. "I must say, it's raised my spirits quite a bit."

"I see that, Cap'n. And I'm guessing seventy-five percent of that trip was spent drinking rum in a tavern? With the othertwenty-five percent spent gathering supplies?"

"Aye, well you got most of it right. Seventy-five percent for rum and a tavern,twenty percent for wooin' Giselle, and five percent for gathering supplies. That's mostly the back and forth ride in the longboat." Jack's eyebrows quirked for a moment before his attention returned to Gibbs. "Funny that you volunteered to stay behind this time, mate. Would've thought you'd have wanted your share of the fun too." Jack leaned back against the bulward still grinning. "I know you love this town as much as I do." He turned his face toward Tortuga, studying it in the sunlight.

"Well, Cap'n. I can't say I do. Besides, we come here often enough. I figured it was my turn to stay behind."

Jack turned his focus to Gibbs, studying the elder pirate. "I hope you're not trying to say you're too old to gallivant all over Tortuga."

"No! -No… I'd never say that Jack. I just needed a rest this time around." Gibbs said with a chuckle. "Besides, I had a few questions for Anamaria."

Jack's head tilted back as he continued to study his first mate. Slowly, he began to nod. "Aye. So you did." Sucking in a deep breath Jack threw his hands into the air. "Well, I'd say it's time to batten down and get going! No telling when those lobster heads might show their guns."

Gibbs climbed up to the poop deck and stood beside Jack as he took his place at the helm. "Stow the gear and weigh anchor! Cap'n says it's time to move out!"

"Aye aye!" Came the shouts of the crew already beginning to make way, but a voice had piped up at the same time that had caught Jack's attention.

"Who was that?"

"Who was what, Cap'n?" Gibbs looked out over the crew who had fallen silent.

"I distinctly heard someone objecting to leaving."

"Aye?" Gibbs furrowed his brow. "Does it really matter, Jack? One crewman not wanting to leave port isn't unusual. The men like Tortuga too-"

"No. I distinctly heard a threat." Jack, keeping his eyes on the crew, began down the stairs to the main deck. He went through the mass of men, studying them one by one. "Somebody doesn't want us to leave; nor I to live. Now, who was it?" He gradually made his way to the bow where some boxes remained, yet to be stowed. "A younger man. High voice. Eunuch possibly." He grinned at his own jest. "But most likely someone not a part of this crew."

"That would be me, Captain Sparrow." All eyes turned to a young man that had sprung up from behind the boxes and pointed a cutlass to Jack's throat.

Jack merely smiled and held out his hand as if expecting a friendly greeting. "Ah! The young eunuch! Pleased to make your acquaintance." His smile fell slightly as he retracted his hand when it received no welcome. "You know, I know a man who was very much like you when I first met him, in fact, I'm pretty sure he was actually a eunuch at the time even though when I called him that I was only joking-"

"Enough! Jack Sparrow, I challenge you to a duel to the death!"

"Honestly. Captain Jack Sparrow, if you please, boy. I've a reputation to maintain."

"Just stop talking! Either you accept my challenge or you are a coward and I slit your throat right now."

Jack's eyes narrowed and he was forced to suppress a smile that drifted up. The cutlass trembled violently in the boy's grip and his face was pallid and pressed into an expression of foolish courage. Jack looked at him with interest. "How old are you, boy? Eighteen?"

"Twenty-four."

"Right then." Jack tucked his hands behind his back and began to pace. "You are a young twenty four year old who climbs aboard a pirate ship with only a cutlass and the goal of challenging the best pirate Captain in the world to a duel to the death. I've said it before and I'll say it again: Do you really think that's wise, boy? Crossing blades with a pirate?"

"It's not a matter of wisdom at this point, Captain Sparrow. It's a matter of honor."

Jack ceased to pace and turned to face the young man. "So it be. I accept your challenge. But what do you aim to win from this fight? My title? The _Black Pearl_?"

"I only want the woman you hold prisoner in the belly of this dark-hearted ship. You and your crew must agree to return Miss Mara Jane McArthur to me if I kill you." The boy's arm seemed to trembled more violently with the words.

"Then if I win, and you die under my blade, you agree that I may do as I please to her and that I don't have to ever return her to Port Royal, savvy?" Jack watched the boy, to see his reaction, but he seemed to only become more determined.

"Agreed. But you better pray that I find her unharmed. If she is injured my wrath will be insatiable."

"You won't ever find her, mate. You're not going to live through this." Jack glanced at Gibbs, giving him a signal he hoped would be taken as 'get the ship sailing'. Then, too slowly for the boy to notice—for his full attention was upon Jack—members of the crew began to complete the work already begun to make way.

Jack pulled his cutlass and backed toward the center of the ship, the boy in pursuit. "Before I kill you, though, I shall like to know your name."

"Jesse Norrington."

Jack found himself at a loss for words, by time he recovered the boy made his first advance, barely parried by Jack. "You aren't by any chance related to Commodore James Norrington, are you?"

"He is my Uncle: my father's brother."

"Ah." Jack fell silent in shock and concentration as the fight began to heat up. The only clear thought he could pull into his mind was: Does that family have an obsession with 'J' names?

Anamaria pressed her way through the crowd of crewmen to Gibbs's side. "Well, it seems you were right. He's willing to kill this boy to get Mara. '…if I win…you agree that I may do as I please to her and that I don't have to ever return her to Port Royal…' sounds a lot like he prefers to keep her for himself versus return her to her proper home."

Gibbs looked at Ana, wide eyed. "I can't believe that's all you can think of, Ana. It's a bit of pure luck that boy was able to be here before we were. It doesn't make any sense."

Ana's eyes flicked to the fight and the boy. "Admitted. It is odd."

"I'm worried. We'll talk about what's going on around here later. For now I suggest we get out of here. Something is going terribly wrong."

The midget of the crew sprang upon a small box and pointed frantically across the water. "Gents! Gents! Look out to the western peninsula! It's an ambush! The Royal Navy is upon us!"

Gibbs and Anamaria looked to each other, then separated in a great hurry.

"Get those sails unfurled! Hurry up with that anchor! Pull out the cannons and ready the guns!" Anamaria pressed her way through the mass of crew as she barked out orders. She took a moment to look out over the water. They wouldn't be able make an escape this time. They were going to end up in a fight.

Gibbs attention flickered briefly to Jack, who was still locked in combat with the young Norrington. He gritted his teeth and moved to the helm to steer the ship as it began to make-way. So, the boy had come with the British, but why they had let the boy come aboard Jack's ship alone, he couldn't understand. The navy wasn't usually so… careless. But it didn't matter now. Jack and the boy were both forced to fight around the crew and the things going on aboard the _Pearl_. What with the anchor being weighed and rigging being pulled to hoist canvas, the deck was in turmoil and Jack and Jesse were caught in the midst of it! Several warning cannon shots boomed from across the water. It wouldn't be long now until the navy was upon them—and they were still trying to gain speed and turn the ship to the correct direction!

Meanwhile, Jack pressed his advantages. He was older, more experienced, and stronger from his years working aboard a ship. The boy was really no match for him, but Jack didn't aim to kill him. He worked steadily to press the boy toward the side of the ship. He would throw him overboard. That would fix him! Jack grinned as Jesse stumbled and barely caught his footing in time to parry an advance by his opponent. "You'd better give up, boy!"

"I can't! I have to save her! And if I give up and hand over rights as the winner of this battle to you, you'll kill me."

"Oh? But who says I plan to. I'd rather not, you know. If I kill someone its usually because they're a pirate like meself or utterly out to get me."

"But I am out to get you!"

"No. If I gave you Mara now you'd leave."

"So why don't you just do that?"

Jack chuckled. "Because there's no profit in doing so." He pressed the boy back once more—the railing was so close now!

A female cry interrupted and drew both their attentions. Jesse was the first to speak.

"Mara! I came for you! I'm here to save you!"

Jack creased his eyebrows and turned the fight so he could see Mara's reaction.

Mara had opened her cabin door to see what was the noise on deck was about and when she saw Jack and Jesse locked in battle, she had been utterly shocked. Even now, she was still shocked. "Jesse! What are you doing? You're going to get yourself killed!"

"That's sort of the point, love." Jack interjected before Jesse could react. "He challenged me to a fight to the death with the stakes high. If I win, you stay here forever, and if he wins, you get to leave, but one of us is going to have to die first."

Mara stood, brazen to the spot, as she watched the two share blow after blow and parry. "No! Please! Captain, don't do this."

Jack let loose a laugh. "It's what he wants, love."

"Jesse! Stop! He won't kill you if you give up."

"I won't give up until you're safe!" Jesse gritted his teeth and in a surprise burst of strength pushed Jack and pulled the fight from beside the bulward.

Mara had to scurry back to avoid being run over by the two's fighting. She looked wildly about her for something—anything—to help her end the fight. She didn't much care if Jack died, but if Jesse was killed- Oh! She couldn't even think about it. Her eyes caught a surprising sight across the bay.

Navy ships!

Good news for once! They had only to survive until the navy arrived then the fight would be forced to a standstill. The crew of the _Black Pearl_ would be too overwhelmed for Jack to keep fighting. But if only the navy would hurry! She rushed to the railing and focused her gaze upon them, but staring at the ships would offer them no greater speed. She returned her thoughts to the duel. What could she do to keep either one from killing the other?

Anamaria watched Mara from the poop deck. She turned and jabbed Gibbs in the side. "You'd better go down there and get her before she jumps off of this ship. We're going to need that hostage to get out of this mess."

Gibbs's eyes flicked from Ana to Mara and back again—then to the helm. "Alright! I'll go see if I can get her locked in the brig. Take the wheel!" Pulling his pistol, he jogged down the steps and caught Mara by surprise. "Alright, missy, you're going to have to go below. Things are going to get a bit too hectic up on deck for you to stay up here."

Mara had been just about to grab up a plank of wood and jump into the fray between Jack and Jesse when Gibbs had caught he by the wrist and put a pistol in her face. "No! But- The fight!"

"Sorry. You've got to go down into the brig." Gibbs pushed Mara along in front of him, but her struggle drew Jesse's attention.

"Mara! Get your hands off of her, you filth!" Jesse leapt past Jack to catch Gibbs and stop whatever he was trying to do with Mara, but Jack caught him with the tip of his cutlass, sending him sprawling to the deck with a deep arm injury. He cried out and struggled to get up, but slipped again.

Gibbs grimaced as Mara struggled all the harder against him.

"No! He's hurt! No, please! Stop fighting! I'll do anything, Captain! Don't kill him!" Mara felt anger welling up against Gibbs and with a determined blow to his foot sent him sprawling into the bulward in pain. She rushed to Jesse and threw her body over him as Jack approached. "Stop this! I demand you stop this madness!"

A familiar voice interrupted the chaos on deck. "Sparrow! This is your last day on Earth! We're through with your crimes against the King and his loyal subjects! Return the girl to us and perhaps your fate will be all that much more kind!"

Jack turned his attention to the voice that was so near behind them. The two navy ships had just nearly caught up and Commodore Norrington, flanked by Gillette, was at the bow of the one to the _Pearl's_ left. Jack found himself having to suddenly keep watch over two hostages and an angry Commodore. Both prefered him dead, but he could use one against the other quite easily. "So you say, gentlemen. But you've made a mistake to attack a ship holding two hostages. I'll kill them both if don't stem your attack."

Gillette's voice rose up in surprise. "What! Two now? Tell what other port have you plundered that we might add it to the list of your crimes!"

"None. The boy came to us. Norrington's nephew, as I have it, stowed aboard and challenged me to the death." Jack pulled his pistol and pointed it to the two on the ground. "I can kill them both now, or you can back away and we can negotiate a ransom. Take your preference, Commodore."

James Norrington felt his teeth grind together. "You're bluffing! You can't have my nephew!"

"See for yourself!" Jack pulled Jesse from under Mara and held him in front for Norrington to see. "Doubt me so much now?"

"No, I see your proof." Norrington sighed and held up a hand. "Cease all movement. We'll negotiate ransom." Gillette backed down from the bow to pace out his frustration on the deck of the _Dauntless_.

Jack grinned and waved the pistol in their direction. "That's what I thought you'd say."

"I'll pull my ship alongside yours, if you don't mind, so we can get this over with quickly."

Jack's head immediately nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

"Retract your guns first. We're retracting ours."

"So we shall. Everybody, stow the guns!" Jack motioned for several of the crew to take Jesse and Mara and hold them under guard. Jesse had already been stripped of his weapon when he fell, and his arm was bleeding profusely. He held a trembling hand to it, his face full of frustration and anger.

The second navy ship drifted back while the Commodore's pulled alongside and dropped anchor. Jack stood watching it with a smug grin on his face. He glanced back at the two captives and winked causing Jesse to stir against his captor's grip.

"Villain! You plan some evil don't you?"

"Boy, what makes you think that?" Jack kept his back to Jesse, avoiding showing his confident smile.

"I just know your kind. I know you shouldn't be trusted."

"And what do you know of my kind? Hmm? That we are a race of thieves with little honor and fewer morals? No, lad, you know nothing of my kind." Jack tucked his pistol into his belt and watch the Commodore take a place on deck across from him.

"What are your demands, Sparrow?"

"First off, and you should know better, it's Captain Sparrow. Secondly, I want at least ten thousand pounds for the two." He felt a laugh rise up in his throat. "And, Commodore, a pardon would be first-rate."

James pressed his lips together. "Possibly yes to the first and definitely no to the second."

"Only possibly?"

"That price is a bit high, even for you."

"It's not for me though. You're buying back your nephew and his bonny lass."

"I meant, you're getting the money so I'd rather not give you so much." James sent a glare across the decks to Jack. "But if that is all you will settle for, fine. Agreed."

Jack clapped his hands together. "Wonderful! It's a deal, then! Ten thousand pounds for Miss Mara McArthur and Mister Jesse Norrington." His eyes caught sight of the second navy ship moving upon them once more. "Commodore! Our agreement? That ship has to stay back."

James turned his gaze and waved at the other ship. "Stay back!"

Jack watched apprehensively as the other ship continued to approach, no men could be seen on deck but for the helmsman. "Norrington!"

"I'm trying!" James continued waving frantically and yelling. "Stop! Stop!"

It was to no avail.

The ship began to pull alongside the _Pearl_ sending chills up Jack's spine. He motioned to Gibbs. "Get these two down into the brig. We've been tricked!"

With a wave from Jack's hand cannon fire erupted from inside the _Black Pearl_, sending shards and splinters of wood flying upon the _Dauntless_ and her mate _Queen's Lace_. For though the cannons had been pushed behind the wooden doors, they could still fire; and now they had become a surprise attack on the navy.

Red and white clothed militant men sprang up and out of the bellies of the navy's two ships with guns and boarding tools in hand. Within seconds a desperate fight had broken out aboard the _Pearl _with the navy quickly boarding and attacking every pirate that could be found.

Jack spotted Norrington walking away from the vanguard of the fight, a smug grin on his face—and Jack knew he had been the fool.

---

**Bulward -** Solid rail along ship side above deck to prevent men and gear from going overboard.

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Buahaha. Jack a fool? But of course. The Commodore purposely tricked him. 

If you're still drawing a blank on everyone's motives in this chappie they will all be explained in the next. So never fear! You will not be confused for long. :)

R&R!


	7. He's a Mute, Sir

Ah! I have returned!

I'm sorry for the long wait, I was on vacation. x.X No internet--bleh.

So! Without further ado, here is your long awaited chapter seven. Please enjoy.

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**Paper Heart**

As the wind blows through my dread locked hair, and cools my tanned flesh I almost feel adventure once again swooping down on me like an enemy pirate attacking from above. It's a feeling one never forgets. Once you've had the feeling, you crave it, like rum, it's an addiction you cannot escape, nor can it be ignored. I hold tightly to the crow's nest, lest I should fall, almost willing myself not to. It's a constant danger, but so is the life I live.

The life of a pirate.

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Entry 794

We barely escaped the Navy's clever ambush and are struggling to sail with the few crewmen we have left. I feel like a wreck.

Among the missing and dead is Mr. Cotton. His body was not seen in the water, but his bird is gone and so is he. My hand trembles to think of it. The poor, old salt had been loyal to me to the end, though he could never speak it in words, I knew he trusted my guidance completely. And I trusted him.

We still have the captives, but they're worth nothing to me in exchange for my crewmen's' lives.

I should not belittle their use though. The hostages were what saved us in the end. We could fire on the navy with our long-nines, but they were afraid to fire back for fear of injuring those they'd come to save. Eventually, the _Queen's Lace_ was sunk to the bottom of the deep and the _Dauntless's _crew drew off their attack to let us on our way. Their men would've drowned if they hadn't stopped to pull them from the water. Therefore, our win is not one to brag about. Had we been sprung upon by two enemy pirate ships—or any ship, in fact, not from the Royal Navy—we would've been doomed. The navy, admittedly, is not as brutish to their own men as some would be.

I just wish the fight hadn't gone in the direction it did. I wanted to shoot my own foot when I had to take on another hostage then proceed to threaten them both right in front of the Commodore. I'm a pirate, but it just doesn't feel right to be that cruel.

It's those kinds of actions that make Barbossa's words ring in my ears.

_"Now, see, Jack, that's the kind of attitude that lost you the Pearl. People are easy to search when they're dead."_

I've never felt that way about piracy, but sometimes I feel forced to use his tactics. Even if I don't want to.

Still, I would return the captives to a port and let them on their merry way—forget about the whole thing, basically—but my crew… They're pirates; pirates who need food and the money to get it with. We need the money from the ransom and I risk a mutiny if I give up.

Blast pirates! Blast this whole idea of kidnapping girls for ransom.

Why have these plans gone off so smoothly in the past but are now complicated beyond belief? Has it merely to do with the fact that I took on the wrong hostage—one too closely related to the Commodore? Maybe the Turners were right. I have struck Port Royal too many times. I don't really know. If I did, I might be able to solve this problem and still get money for my crew; or at least know of a new way to get money. But I'm at a loss.

Treasure hunting is an option I could take more often, to avoid seeking ransoms. It's something my crew and I do once in awhile, but—usually—although, not in this case, it's more work than getting a ransom. And it's often more dangerous. Other pirates hear of the search and you get chased around from here to there, then, sometimes, you chase them from there to here to come out on top. Men die, ships are sunk, dreams are crushed, and everyone is out for themselves. Treasure hunting is a sport to accomplish alone.

Perhaps my problem is that I have the wrong crew. I need to find one that has my goals and ideas but—

No.

No one has my objectives. Gibbs is always telling me I'm one of a kind. And I know I am.

I'm too unconventional to be much of a blood-thirsty pirate.

As for Mara and Jesse, they're both in the Captain's cabin comforting each other. I know his presence is either going to relax Mara or stir her up. I don't know which, but from my first impression of the whelp, there's looking to be more tension around here from now on.

I don't look forward to it.

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The Journal of a Lady in Distress;

Captive by Pirate

Day 20

_Miss Mara McArthur_

I can't believe it! He's really here!

To be able to write this, with his hand in mine, while I use the surface of a book to write on at the bedside is all like a dream. My reality is all fuzzy around the edges with happiness.

But then it's shaken with fear. We're both in danger now and the navy has abandoned us to our doom. Apparently, we're not worth the price of a hundred dead men.

What happened today has upset me terribly. I never expected to see Jesse again, let alone aboard this ship! I feel more comfortable now that he's with me, but I'm scared for him. He's not that good with a sword. He's been practicing with Will Turner, a good friend of mine, but he's not ready to fight off a hoard of pirates. Jack could've very well killed him today, but for some reason he didn't. Whether he went easy on him or had other plans, I'm not sure, but Jack was all the time going to win—I knew that. And it frightens me a little to think that Jesse wouldn't back down.

Even if he's willing to—and that's sweet of him—I don't want him to die to save me. I can't bear the idea. It's horrid and foolish of him. How dare he do such an openly stupid thing, and worry me like this!

Before falling asleep he told me how he got here. He stowed aboard the _Dauntless_ before it made way from Port Royal. When it docked momentarily near Tortuga he swam from the ship to the nearby, small peninsula, jogged to the other side of it and swam to the _Black Pearl_. I know he used to swim a mile every day back in Port Royal, but… How did he think he would have the energy to fight after swimming and running all that way? What a fool!

Incredibly brave and sweet… But a fool nonetheless!

Ah! But we are in a bit of trouble. Who's to save us now that the Navy has been defeated? We're on our way to a hidden berth and our only hope of rescue has been left far behind. If we cannot be found, as seems to be the case, I will be trapped here forever; just as Sparrow promised.

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"You're still awake, Mara?"

"I'm writing about what's been happening."

Jesse sat up and wiped the sleep from his eyes. "You're keeping a log of your adventure? What for?" He watched her closing notes with interest, then leaned back when she seemed to be nearly finished.

"To pass time. And I suppose it works as a will. You know, I'll need one in case I don't survive this." Mara closed her journal and laid her empty quill in her lap. She looked over at Jesse with remorse in her eyes.

"What kind of talk is that? I'm here now. We can escape!" Jesse sprang up from the bed and fell to one knee by Mara's feet. "We've only to wait until they dock in a port and we'll jump ship. If they try to stop us, I'll fight them off! They can't keep us here." He laid his hands over hers, trying to show her the bravery he felt in his heart despite their situation.

"You don't understand, Jesse. I'm under the impression this berth of theirs is an island, and we're going straight there unless something drastic changes their plans." Mara pulled her hands from under his. "I tried to jump ship once already. Maybe you can swim fast enough to get away, but I'm dead weight. We'll never make it anyplace when I'm my sort of waist size."

Jesse stared up at Mara, jaw hanging loose for a moment. It always shocked him how willingly she put herself down in front of him and other people. "That's not true! You've gone swimming with me before. And you kept up just fine." He finished with a proud grin.

"We went a fourth of a mile, you had your arm around me the whole time. You've obviously also forgotten about the vest of empty canteens I wore to keep me afloat." Mara crossed her arms, eyebrow raised. "Although, I don't see how anyone could forget that horrid contraption." She moved her hands to her hips in defiance. "And another thing: you even joked afterwards how slowly you had to swim to stay with me. You quite plainly said that it took us as long to do one-fourth mile as it did for you to do one whole mile."

Groaning, Jesse turned his face away to hide his distress then glanced back on a sudden though with suspicion in his eyes. "You've given up on escape, haven't you?"

"That's beside the point. I'm being realistic."

"No, you're not!" Jesse said, grabbing her shoulders. "Realistic is us getting out of here and starting our life together like we were planning to."

"How can you say that?" Mara shrugged off Jesse's hands and turned to the window. "We're on a boat in the middle of the ocean. Where are we supposed to go?"

"The nearest port!" Jesse said with a grin.

"What if it's unfriendly?"

Jesse looked away with a shrug. "We'll escape to a different port, then."

"You expect us to swim all of that way?" Mara turned her head, eyebrow raised.

"We'll borrow a row boat."

"So, we're going to travel all the way to a port, from a ship, in the middle of the ocean, and we're going in a row boat?" Mara asked incredulously.

"Why not?"

"Oh, you and your brash plans!" Mara turned back to the window angrily. He would be like this, suggesting crazy ideas and acting before thinking. His spontaneity was the one thing she could barely stand about him.

Jesse laid his hand on her arm only to have it brushed off. "But this isn't about my first marriage proposal to you."

"I never said it was!" Mara was beginning to be quite irate with this boy of hers. Where did he get off bringing that up?

"You mentioned my 'brash plans' again. You always do when you're thinking about our first marriage attempt." The young man turned and sat himself on the bed, frustrated with the argument.

"I am not still upset about that." Mara said, refusing to look at him.

Jesse watched his fiancé with narrowed eyes, unable to give up on his plans yet. "Then why can't we go in a row boat?"

"Because I don't care to die that way!"

"What way?"

"Any number of ways that could come from trying to sail the ocean in a rowboat!" Mara held up a hand and began to count off fingers. "Starvation, dehydration, eaten by sharks, drowning, being smashed against rocks or reefs, finding ourselves on an island full of cannibals, finding ourselves in an unfriendly port-"

Jesse's hands flew up in defense. "Whoa! I get the idea! It's dangerous; but, Mara, how's that any worse than here?"

Mara set her hand on her cheek and turned away. "It just is."

"We've got a better chance with the ocean than with bloodthirsty pirates." Jesse stood and wrapped his arms around Mara's shoulders, surprised to feel her tremble beneath him. "Mara?"

"No." Mara said with a gentle shake of her head. "They're not bloodthirsty. Captain Sparrow could've killed you today. He fights like William Turner—he's as good as Will is. I don't know why, but he refrained from killing you. He spared your life, Jesse."

"Are you suggesting that I can't even beat one pirate in order to save you?" Jesse tightened his arms around Mara's shoulders.

"I'm not trying to put down your skills. I'm just saying that Jack could've killed you and that if he didn't he probably doesn't intend to ever kill us. He's only out for profit, Jesse, and killing us won't get him any money."

"And you know this because he's told you?"

Mara turned her head and glared up at Jesse's face. "I just know. Can't you give a little trust in what I'm saying? I have been on this ship for awhile, you know. A lot longer than you, at least."

"Mara, I trust you, but I don't trust them. You can say what you truly believe, but it doesn't mean they're going to be honest according to their past actions. These are unpredictable, wild devils. You can't trust them to be consistent." Jesse stared back at Mara with equal firmness to her own. He wasn't going to give in on this point. They needed to at least attempt escape—even if just to be recaptured.

"You're quite impossible."

"Does that matter?"

Mara reached her hands up to Jesse's arms, still wrapped around her shoulders, and clutched at them. "No." She sighed heavily. "If you try to escape, I'll go with you—but I don't agree with this. I'm only going because I don't want to be here alone."

Jesse fought the urge to roll his eyes, even though he knew she wouldn't see him do it if he did. "I wouldn't go if you refused to."

"Then I refuse your absurd plan." Mara said releasing herself from Jesse's hold. "I won't sail on the ocean in a row boat and I won't swim to a port. I will not die that way."

Jesse stared down at Mara, studying her brown locks and eyes with an expression devoid of emotion. He dared not say anything for his anger.

"Let me tell you what's happened so far and maybe you'll understand my view." Mara interjected quickly into the heated silence. She took a breath and led Jesse to the bed to sit. They both did and she took his hands in hers. "There's something you should know about Jack."

Jesse raised a curious brow. "Do tell."

---------------------'

**We return now to an earlier time.  
****Norrington had just tricked Jack and after pretending to not be on the offensive, secretly allowed the _Queen's Lace_ to creep up for the attack.**

Norrington turned from his conversation with Jack, satisfied entirely. Doing his best to avoid the cross-fire, he strode across the deck to the helm. "Lieutenant?"

"Yes, Commodore?"

"I do believe, Lieutenant, that these mongrels are finally getting a taste of what the King of England feels about pirates." James said with a small smile. "It's about time."

"I concur, Commodore, but-" Gillette gripped the mizzenmast as the _Dauntless_ jolted for the fifth time and the air cracked with a sound like thunder. "The cannon fire! We won't last if we don't fight back with equal strength. We're taking round after round with no return!"

Norrington's eyes flitted to the deck of the _Pearl_ and carefully studied the drama unfolding there. "We don't have a choice. My nephew and his fiancé are aboard that ship. We cannot fire or we're putting them at risk for injury or death." He wobbled and clung to the bulward as another round from the _Pearl's _cannons struck the ship. He glanced across the _Pearl_ to the _Queen's Lace_ as cries rose up with the sound of desperation. More cannon fire threw James to his knees.

"Commodore!" Gillette's voice could barely rise above the thunder of the cannons. "The _Queen's Lace_ is on the verge of sinking!"

The voice of the _Dauntless's _bo'sun interjected before Norrington could formulate a reply. "And we'll be joining them if we don't stem our attack. We're taking on a lot of heavy damage, Commodore."

James eyes couldn't tear from the sight aboard the _Black Pearl_. "But this is our last chance to stop Sparrow. We'll have to wait for reinforcement to arrive if this doesn't work. We can't wait that long!"

"Commodore!" Gillette caught and held Norrington's eyes. "Two are not the price of many. Put your connections aside—and your hatred for Sparrow. It's time for you to think of the well-being of your men." He waited precious seconds in silence, keeping careful watch of the struggle that was plain on the Commodore's face.

"Pull the men from the fight." James said finally, his voice cracking. He tore his eyes from Gillette to stare after Jack on the other deck. When his Lieutenant made no move to make the orders, Norrington dragged himself to his feet and forced his voice to be firm. "Gillette! The men—I call for an immediate and full retreat!"

"Fall back! Make your way back to the _Dauntless_! Retreat!"

Gillette's cries could barely be heard of the roar of the cannons, but what truly drowned him out was the screams of both the pirate and navy crews as the _Queen's Lace_ rolled on her Port bow and the masts fell towards the fight still ongoing aboard the _Pearl_. The main mast caught on the bulward and could go no further. The _Queen's Lace_ continued to sink, the mast slowly drifting down the bulward into the water as both crews looked on in horror. Men dove into the water from the sinking vessel in an effort to escape being taken down with it; some men clung to it as their last hope. Gillette's orders could finally be heard as the gunners paused their efforts.

"Retreat to the _Dauntless_!"

Norrington felt a stone sinking from his chest to his stomach as men poured off of the _Pearl _in the rush to escape. He watched Jack leap to his place at the helm, barely able to hear the orders he shouted to his crew as they prepared to make their escape. "This shouldn't be how it ends. He shouldn't be escaping all that he deserves!"

Gillette followed James's gaze then turned his eyes sympathetically on his Commodore. "This isn't the end, sir. So long as those two live we have hope."

"Perhaps, Lieutenant, but if they're not in Tortuga, I won't know where to find them; and I'm not authorized to be away from Port Royal for so long. If we can't catch them now, then when?" James cringed as the _Queen's Lace_ spewed forth one final moan and freed her mast from the _Black Pearl_. As the water bubbled about her disappearing edges and the _Pearl _made her way toward the horizon, he clenched his fists and in a few quick strides made it to the bow of the ship. He didn't look back as he spoke. "We will pursue them, Gillette, as soon as we can. But for now, let us rescue our men from the water's grip."

Gillette felt smile drawing up his lips, but caught himself and turned to fire the orders and as the recovery work began he drew a sideways glance to watch James as he stood at the bow. "That man has lost a lot to that pirate," he said to a sailor beside him. "I just hope he doesn't let it get to him."

The sailor grimaced in the sunlight as he too turned his eyes to the Commodore. "I as well, sir. But I'm afraid I've not much idea what you're speaking of."

Gillette nodded curtly and turned to find something to do. "No, of course you wouldn't. My apologies, sailor." He lifted up a rope that a sailor was calling for, but a tap on his shoulder pulled his attention.

"Lieutenant, we've pulled up someone out of the water we think you should talk to."

Gillette nodded and turned to follow closely behind the Navy Officer. As they approached the center-port bow, he could see a man, guarded by three officers with rifles and bayonets. He was elderly with a grimace set upon his wrinkled features, he looked miserable; but then he was shivering too. Gillette felt a twinge of compassion for the man who was obviously a crewman from the _Black Pearl_, but kept his composure. "Well, have you got anything to say for yourself, pirate?"

The man said nothing.

"Good grief, man, say something in your own defense! You're on a navy ship with a brand on your arm that names you pirate. It's not a good position for you." Gillette glanced over his shoulder at the Commodore who was approaching with sullen steps. "Sir, the men dragged him up with some of ours."

"I see that."

"Shall I leave him to you then?"

"Yes."

Gillette bowed curtly and strode away.

James continued to stare blankly at the old pirate. "You were on Jack's ship?"

The old man still said nothing.

"Speak for yourself or you'll get no justice." James said, already aggravated. "What!" He ducked in surprise as something flew over his head—knocking James's tri-cornered hat from his brow to the deck—and promptly perched upon the old man's shoulder. "Ah." Norrington said, nodding slowly. He understood now who this was. "Mr. Cotton, is it? Nice to have you aboard, sir."

The sailor's elderly face seemed to soften its reserve, obduracy removed. Yet, he made no attempt to speak.

"I hope you find your accommodations in the brig comfortable because—unless you can help us—it'll be the last place in which you spend time alive—at least, before we toss you in jail." Norrington motioned for the three officers to take the sailor away, but pulled one aside. "He's a mute. I have not much hope for my plans because of this, but if we could get him to somehow tell us where the _Black Pearl_ is headed, we might be able to pull back together this disgraceful rescue attempt."

"Aye, Commodore."

James released the officer's arm and he went on his way to catch up with the other two still dragging along Cotton and his squawking bird. Could James possibly dare to hope that the old mute was the answer to their problems? The Commodore straightened himself, then his jacket, and turned brightened eyes to the horizon in which a glimmer of the _Pearl_ was still barely visible. If he had his druthers, he would save his nephew and his young fiancé and the two would have their wedding in Port Royal with Mara's mother present to witness it. "So long as that woman still lives, I can succeed." He turned his head to give Gillette a smile when the Lieutenant's hand touched his shoulder to catch his attention. "Yes, Gillette?"

"Every man has been pulled from the waters, Commodore, and our Bo'sun says before we can go anywhere we have to get the _Dauntless_ fixed. She's not seaworthy at the present time."

"That's just fine, Lieutenant. Pull her into Tortuga and we'll begin repairs." James felt his face light up with a smile, and watched Gillette stand rock-struck beside him.

"Commodore?"

"Are you going to give the orders or shall I have to?"

Gillette's eyes widened, but a smile drew over his face; proof of his amusement. "I'll give them." He said with a curt nod, his face sobering. There was hope now, he could see it in Norrington's eyes. Perhaps it wasn't much, but it was enough. He doled out the fresh orders, but in a sudden thought turned back to James. "But he's mute, sir! He can't tell us anything."

"We'll just have to find some way around that, Lieutenant. He either tells us what we want to know by finding some way of communication or he is spared no amount of justice and goes straight to the gallows. It's his own choice at this point."

Though the glint of hope never left Norrington's eyes as he spoke, Gillette couldn't help but feel that getting information from the old pirate would be more difficult than the Commodore cared to believe.

**

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I'm not really all that pleased with this chapter. The conversation between Mara and Jesse greatly displeases me in how it went. But, alas, I didn't want to put off an update any longer. v.V I'm also not very happy with my version of Jack. Ick. He just sounds like the Commodore to me. Anybody else feel this way?

Thanks for the reviews, guys! **_Captain MeraSparrow, Lonaargh, Nicole Egeni: You guys rock._**

R&R, please and thank you. :)


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